BETTY  WALES  B.A 

MARGARET  WARDE 


^ 


^  — .. 


2. 


'NOW  COME  AND  LABEL  HER  DRESSES' 


BETTY  WALES,  R  A. 

39   STORJT   FOJ^  GIRJ"S 

^MARGARET 
WARDE 

Author    qf 
"BenyWates.Freshm&n" 

**  Betty  Wales.Sophomore" 
"  Bctly  Wales.  Junior" 
"  Betty  Wales.  Senior" 

fllu.sira.tcd    by 
EVA  M.  NAOEL 

15he  Penn  Publishing  Company 

PHILADELPHIA      MCMVIII 

COPYRIGHT 
1908  BY 
THE  PENM 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


Introduction 

WHEN  I  first  knew  Betty  Wales  she  was  a 
freshman  at  Harding  College,  with  a  sedate, 
comical  roommate  named  Helen  Chase  Adams, 
and  a  host  of  good  friends,  who  stood  by  her 
and  one  another  all  through  the  four  years  of 
their  college  course.  Mary  Brooks — after- 
ward Mrs.  Hinsdale — was  a  sophomore  when 
Betty  entered  college,  but  the  others,  the  three 
B's,  Roberta  Lewis,  Eleanor  Watson,  Rachel 
Morrison,  and  Katherine  Kittredge, — all  be- 
longed to  the  "  finest  class  "  of  19 — .  So  did 
Madeline  Ayres,  though  she  was  a  year  late  in 
joining  it  and  felt  obliged  to  make  up  for  lost 
time  by  being  a  particularly  lively  and  loyal 
Hardingite  during  her  abbreviated  course 
there.  Georgia  Ames  first  appeared  in  19 — 's 
junior  year,  and  joined  "The  Merry  Hearts," 
a  society  that  Betty  and  her  friends  had  or- 
ganized. But  Georgia  the  first,  as  Madeline 
used  to  call  her,  was  only  a  figment  of  Mad- 
eline's imagination  ;  it  was  a  delightful  coin- 

3 


2133624 


4  INTRODUCTION 

cidence  when,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  a  real 
Georgia  Ames  appeared  to  step  into  the  place 
left  vacant  by  her  departed  namesake,  whose 
short  but  strenuous  career  at  Harding  had 
made  them  both  famous. 

All  these  things  and  many  others  may  be 
found  in  the  four  books  entitled  respectively 
11  Betty  Wales,  Freshman,"  "  Betty  Wales, 
Sophomore,"  "  Betty  Wales,  Junior,"  and 
"  Betty  Wales,  Senior."  This  story  was  writ- 
ten because  some  of  Betty's  friends  were  not 
satisfied  to  leave  her  at  the  end  of  her  senior 
year,  but  wished  to  hear  what  she  did  next. 
If  any  of  them  still  want  to  know  what  hap- 
pened to  her  after  she  came  back  from  her  trip 
abroad,  why,  perhaps  some  day  they  may. 

MARGARET  WARDE. 


Contents 

I.  AN  IMPROMPTU  WEDDING — AND  OTHER 

IMPROMPTUS g 

II.  A      GOING-AWAY      PARTY — HARDING 

STYLE      ......  27 

III.  OFF  TO  BONNIE  SCOTLAND   ...  44 

IV.  A  DISILLUSIONMENT  MADE  GOOD          .  66 
V.  A  RUIN  AND  A  REUNION       ...  88 

VI.  SCOTCH  MISTS      .         .         .         .         .no 

VII.  THE  GHOST  OF  DUNSTAFFNAGE    .         .129 

VIII.  BETTY  DISCOVERS  HER  SPECIALTY         .  146 

IX.  BUYING  A  DUKE  .....  166 

X.  THE  GAY  GHOSTS  OF  LONDON      .         .  185 

XI.  BETTY  WALES,  DETECTIVE  .         .         .  204 

XII.  JASPER  J.  MORTON  AGAIN    .         .         .  221 

XIII.  A  "  NEAR-ADVENTURE  "...  236 

XIV.  A  REAL  ADVENTURE    ....  258 
XV.  A  NOISY  PARISIAN  GHOST    .         .         .  273 

XVI.  THE  PROGRESS  OF  ROMANCE          .         .  293 

XVII.  TELLING  THE  MAGNATE       .         .         .  311 

XVIII.  HOME  AGAIN       .....  329 


Illustrations 


PAGE 

"  Now  COME  AND  LABEL  HER  DRESSES  "  Frontispiece 
11  IT'S  ONLY  FOR  HER  I'M  CABIN'  "  .  .  .57 
"COME  UP,  ALL  OF  You"  .  .  .  .104 

"  FOUR  AND  Six  !" 179 

"  I  HAVE  MY  DICTIONARY  "  .        .        .    228 

THE  GIRLS  POUNCED  UPON  HER    .        .        .    284 

SOMETHING  HAD  HAPPENED  IN  THE  SECOND 
BOAT  .  322 


Betty  Wales,  B.  A. 


Betty  Wales,  B.  A. 


CHAPTER  I 

AN  IMPROMPTU  WEDDING AND  OTHER  IM- 
PROMPTUS 

"  WELL,"  announced  Betty  Wales  to  the 
family  breakfast  table,  a  week  after  19 — 's 
commencement,  "  I'm  beginning  to  feel 
quite  at  home  again.  I've  got  my  room 
fixed " 

"  So  it  looks  as  much  like  a  Harding  room 
as  you  can  make  it,"  laughed  Nan. 

"  And  you  spend  most  of  your  time  describ- 
ing the  lost  glories  of  Harding  to  anybody 
who  will  listen,"  added  Will. 

"  And  the  rest  in  writing  long  letters  to  the 
other  '  Merry  Hearts/  "  put  in  mother  slyly. 

"  And  she  plans  what  I'll  do  when  I  go  to 
college,"  declared  the  Smallest  Sister,  who  had 
just  had  her  first  "  teens  birthday  "  and  did 

9 


io        BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

not  propose  to  be  excluded  from  any  family 
council. 

"  In  short,"  said  Mr.  Wales,  appearing 
solemnly  from  behind  the  morning  paper, 
"  being  '  quite  at  home  '  means  wishing  you 
were  back  at  college.  Is  that  about  the  size 
of  it,  Miss  Betty  Wales  ?  " 

"  Never,  daddy,"  cried  Betty,  leaning  across 
the  corner  of  the  table  to  give  him  a  hug. 
"  I'm  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be  to  be  really  and 
truly  at  home  again  with  my  family.  Of 
course  I  shall  miss  the  girls  dreadfully, 
but — oh,  there  the  postman's  ring  !  I  wonder 
if  he's  got  anything  for  me."  And  Betty 
danced  off  to  the  door,  answering  Nan's 
and  Will's  chorused  "  I  told  you  so  I  "  with  a 
laughing  "  I  don't  care."  As  Will  had  once 
said,  "  The  nicest  thing  about  Betty  is  that 
she  can't  possibly  be  teased." 

She  was  back  in  a  minute  with  a  handful 
of  letters  for  the  family  and  four  for  herself. 

"All  from  late  lamented  Hardingites  ? " 
inquired  Will,  who  never  wrote  letters  and 
therefore  seldom  got  any  to  read  over  his 
morning  coffee. 

Betty  was  tearing  open  the  second  envelope. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.         n 

"That  one  isn't.  It's  just  congratulations  on 
graduating,  from  Aunt  Maria.  But  this  is 
from  Madeline  Ayres — why,  how  funny  !  It's 
dated  Monday,  in  New  York,  and  she  was 
going  to  sail  last  Saturday.  Oh,  dear,  I  don't 
understand  at  all !  She  says  " — Betty  frowned 
despairingly  over  Madeline's  dainty,  unread- 
able hieroglyphics — "  she  says,  '  You  have 
heard  all  about  it  by  this  time,  I  suppose, 

and  isn't  it  just — just '  Oh,  I  wish 

Madeline  could  write  plainly." 

"  Too  bad  about  these  college  graduates  who 
can  neither  read  nor  write,"  said  Will  loftily. 
"  Try  the  next  one.  Perhaps  they'll  explain 
each  other.  Isn't  that  scrawly  one  in  the 
blue  envelope  from  Katherine  Kittredge  ?  " 

Betty  nodded  absently  and  tore  open  the 
blue  envelope.  "  Why  how  funny ! "  she 
cried.  "  K.  begins  just  the  very  same  way. 
'  Of  course  you've  heard  about  it  by  this  time, 
and  isn't  it  the  nicest  ever?  Are  you  and 
Roberta  going  to  wear  your  commencement 
dresses  too  ?  Wasn't  it  exciting  the  way  they 
caught  Madeline  on  the  wharf?  By  the  way, 
both  the  straps  of  my  telescope  broke  on  the 
way  home,  and  so  I've  bought  a  gorgeous 


12         BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

leather  bag  to  carry  on  this  trip,  without  wait- 
ing for  my  first  salary.  Dick  lent  me  the 
money — you  know  he's  been  working  this 
winter,  so  that  I  could  stay  at  Harding,  and 
they  never  told  me  a  word  about  it.  We're 
planning  for  his  college  course  now,  father  and 
I,  and  I  couldn't  have  gone  a  step  to  the  wed- 
ding if  dear  old  Mary  hadn't  sent  the  ticket.' 
Gracious  I "  interpolated  Betty  excitedly, 
"what  is  she  talking  about?  Dick's  her 
brother.  That  hasn't  anything  to  do  with 
the  rest  of  the  letter."  She  glanced  at 
the  last  envelope.  "  Oh,  this  is  from  Mary 
Brooks.  I  hope  it  won't  be  puzzle  number 
three." 

It  wasn't.  Betty  read  it  all  through  to 
herself — four  closely  written  pages — while  the 
Wales  family,  who  had  all  become  interested 
by  this  time,  watched  her  cheeks  growing 
pinker  and  her  eyes  brighter  and  bigger  with 
excitement,  as  she  read.  At  the  end  she  gave 
a  rapturous  little  sigh.  "  Oh,  it's  just  perfectly 
lovely  !  "  she  declared. 

"What? "demanded  Will. 

"  Oh,  everything,"  answered  Betty  vaguely. 
"  Mary's  going  to  be  married  a  week  from  to- 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.         13 

day,  and  we're  all  coming, — every  single  one 
of  us.  She  caught  Madeline  before  she  went 
abroad,  and  Eleanor  before  she  left  for  Denver, 
and  she's  sent  tickets  to  K.  and  Rachel  and 
Helen,  instead  of  giving  us  all  bridesmaids' 
presents.  Oh,  father  dear,  may  I  go?  " 

Mr.  Wales  smiled  into  his  daughter's 
flushed,  happy  face.  "  Betty,"  he  said,  "  your 
enthusiasm  is  delightful.  We  shall  miss  it 
while  you  are  gone,  but  if  Mary — whoever  she 
may  be — is  going  to  be  married  and  can't  have 
it  done  properly  without  you,  why  we  shall 
have  to  drift  along  for  another  week  in  our 
accustomed  state  of  staid  and  placid  calm." 

And  Betty  was  so  excited  and  so  busy  ex- 
plaining to  her  father  which  one  of  all  the 
girls  he  met  at  Harding  was  Mary  Brooks,  and 
which  one  of  the  faculty  was  Dr.  Hinsdale, 
that  she  never  noticed  the  letter  from  Babbie 
Hildreth,  in  her  father's  mail,  or  the  dainty, 
scented  note,  also  postmarked  Pelham  Manor, 
which  her  mother  read  and  covertly  passed  to 
Nan  and  then  to  Mr.  Wales.  And  after  break- 
fast she  flew  straight  up-stairs  to  answer  her 
letters,  never  dreaming  that  the  long  talk 
father  and  mother  and  Nan  were  having  on 


i4        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

the  piazza  just  underneath  her  windows  was 
all  about  her — Betty  Wales — and  the  reasons 
why  she  should  or  should  not  go  on  the 
most  glorious  summer  trip  that  a  girl  ever 
took. 

"  Well,  I'll  see,"  father  called  back  from 
the  gate,  as  he  hurried  off  to  his  office  at  last, 
and  Betty  smiled  to  herself  and  wondered 
whether  Nan  wanted  a  set  of  new  books  or  the 
Smallest  Sister  a  bicycle.  "  Father  always 
says  that  when  he  thinks  you're  getting  pretty 
extravagant  in  your  tastes,  but  still  he's  going 
to  let  you  have  it  all  the  same,"  reflected  Betty, 
and  started  for  the  third  time  to  reread 
Mary's  letter. 

"  Dearest  Betty,"  it  began,  "  I've  left  you 
till  the  last  to  write  to  because  you  aren't 
going  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  within  the 
week,  and  you  don't  take  ages  to  make 
up  your  mind  to  things.  In  short,  my 
child,  I  know  that  this  impromptu  wed- 
ding idea  will  appeal  to  you  and  that  you  will 
keep  your  promise  to  help  Roberta  do  the 
bridesmaid  act  just  as  nicely  as  if  I'd  told  you 
six  weeks  ahead  instead  of  one,  and  then  sent 
you  a  neatly  engraved  invitation  at  the  proper 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        15 

hour  and  minute.  We  want  to  be  married 
next  Thursday  at  three,  because — oh,  dear, 
here  comes  George  Garrison  Hlnsdale  this 
minute,  and  I  promised  to  be  ready  to  take 
him  to  call  on  my  minister.  I'll  tell  you  why 
we  changed  our  minds  when  I  see  you.  You 
and  Roberta  and  Laurie  are  to  stay  with  me, 
and  the  others  are  invited  to  Tilly  Root's,  just 
across  the  street.  There's  a  dinner  Wednesday 
night,  before  the  rehearsal.  Oh,  about 
clothes, — just  wear  your  graduating  dress  or 
anything  else  that  you  and  Roberta  agree 
upon.  Let  me  know  your  train.  Oh,  and 
you  won't  draw  a  present,  because  I  wanted 
all  the  girls  to  come,  so  I  sent  tickets  to  K. 
and  Rachel  and  Helen.  I  hope  they  won't 
feel  hurt,  and  that  you  won't  mind  not  having 
diamond  sunbursts  to  remember  the  occasion 
by.  You  see  I  couldn't  give  diamond  sun- 
bursts to  some  and  railroad  tickets  to  others. 
It  would  have  spoiled  the  scheme  of  decora- 
tion. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  how  I  caught  Mad- 
eline's coat-tails  just  as  she  was  going  on  board 
her  boat,  but  George  Garrison  Hinsdale  re- 
fuses to  wait  another  second.  I  foresee  that  I 


16        EETTT    WALES,  E.A. 

have  drawn  a  tyrannical  husband.     And  the 
moral  of  that  is, — I'm  too  happy  to  care. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  MARY." 

Before  she  wrote  to  Mary,  Betty  puzzled 
out  most  of  Madeline's  letter,  which  gave  an 
amusing  account  of  her  sudden  change  of 
plans.  "  Eleanor  came  to  see  me  off,"  she 
wrote,  "  and  Dick  Blake  was  there  with  his 
arms  full  of  flowers  for  me  and  his  eyes  fast- 
ened tight  to  Eleanor,  and  all  the  good  Bo- 
hemians were  saying  fond  farewells  and  send- 
ing messages  to  daddy  and  telling  when 
they'd  probably  turn  up  in  Sorrento,  when  up 
dashed  Mary  Brooks  and  her  professor.  And 
in  five  minutes  Dick  had  sold  my  cabin  to  a 
man  he  knew  who  had  come  down  on  the 
chance  of  getting  one  and  that  boat  had  sailed 
without  me  and  my  flowers  and  my  steamer 
trunk  and  my  '  carry-all-and-more-too  ' ;  and 
my  weeping  chaperon  that  I  had  not  yet 
wasted  time  in  hunting  up  is  probably  send- 
ing wireless  messages  of  condolence  to  my 
family  this  minute.  But  Dr.  Hinsdale  cabled, 
and  then  Dick  took  the  whole  crowd  to  a 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        17 

roof-garden  to  cool  off,  and  after  that  he  and 
I  went  down  the  Bowery  giving  away  that 
armful  of  roses  to  the  smallest,  raggedest  chil- 
dren we  could  find.  So  it  was  a  very  nice 
party,  and  of  course  I  can  go  to  Italy  any 
time.  MAD." 

And  this  is  how  it  happened  that  just  two 
weeks  after  they  had  parted,  bravely  trying 
not  to  show  that  they  cared,  "  The  Merry 
Hearts," — or  at  least  the  Chapin  House  divi- 
sion of  them,  with  the  B's  thrown  in  for  full 
measure, — met,  one  sultry  July  afternoon,  on 
Mary's  big,  vine-shaded  piazza  and,  chattering 
like  magpies,  drank  inordinate  quantities  of 
lemonade  and  iced  tea  and  heard  from  the 
bride-to-be  all  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  her 
impromptu  wedding. 

"  Haven't  I  told  any  of  you  why  we 
changed  ?  "  asked  Mary.  "  No,  Babe,  it  wasn't 
because  we  hadn't  the  strength  of  mind  to 
wait  till  August.  It  was  because  my  Uncle 
Marcellus  gave  us  a  desert  island  up  on  the 
Maine  Coast  for  a  wedding  present.  Roberta, 
pass  the  cookies  to  yourself,  please." 

"  Query,"  propounded  K.  gaily.     "  When 


i8        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

given  a  desert  island  for  a  wedding  present  is 
it  obligatory  to  take  possession  instantly  or 
forever  after  keep  away  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  foolish,"  said  Mary  severely. 
"  It  was  this  way,  don't  you  see.  The  island 
has  a  gorgeous  camp  on  it,  and  of  course  we 
want  to  go  there  for  our  honeymoon,  and  why 
shouldn't  we  start  early  and  stay  all  summer  ? 
If  we  had  waited  until  the  middle  of  August, 
as  we  planned,  that  desert  island  would  have 
gone  to  waste  for  one  whole  month." 

"  Which  would  ill  become  the  desert  island 
of  a  psychology  professor,"  declared  Madeline. 
"  Who  says  that  the  college  girl  doesn't  bring 
intellect  to  bear  on  the  practical  affairs  of 
life?" 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  cried  Bob,  waving  her  lem- 
onade glass.  "  Here's  to  the  college  bride, 
who  lets  no  desert  island  waste  its  sweetness 
on  the  empty  air  !  Here's  to  the  impromptu 
wedding  !  Here's  to  the  first  '  Merry  Heart ' 
reunion  !  Here's " 

"  Hush,  Bob,"  Babbie  protested.  "  You're 
disgracing  the  bridal  party  in  the  eyes  of 
the  neighborhood.  Take  us  up  to  see  the 
trousseau,  Mary,  please." 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.         19 

"  I'll  bet  there's  nothing  very  impromptu 
about  that,"  declared  Babe. 

"  Oh,  girls,  I  hope  you'll  like  it,"  began 
Mary  anxiously,  leading  the  way  indoors. 
"  I've  positively  worn  myself  out  trying  to 
have  it  right — right  for  a  Harding  professor's 
wife,  I  mean." 

"  Picture  Mary  looking  twenty  in  pink 
chiffon,  being  a  patroness  at  the  junior  prom," 
cried  K.,  picking  up  the  small  bride  and 
standing  her  in  a  piazza  chair. 

"  Picture  Mary  behind  an  armful  of  violets, 
sitting  on  the  stage  at  the  big  game,  trying  to  re- 
member that  she's  Mrs.  Professor  Hinsdale  and 
mustn't  shriek  for  the  purple,"  added  Rachel. 

"  Picture  Mary  in  a  velvet  suit  and  a  pic- 
ture hat,  making  her  first  calls  on  the  faculty," 
jeered  Bob. 

"  When  she's  fairly  pining  to  go  snow-shoe- 
ing with  her  little  friends  in  the  senior  class," 
added  Babe  convincingly. 

"  Stop  teasing  her,"  commanded  Betty, 
helping  Mary  down  from  her  lofty  perch. 
"  She'll  be  the  nicest  professor's  wife  that  ever 
was — see  if  she  isn't !  Now  come  and  label 
her  dresses  for  the  proper  occasions." 


20        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

It  was  most  absorbing — deciding  what  Mary 
should  wear  to  faculty  parties,  to  college  lec- 
tures, to  the  president's  dinners — "  Just  to 
think  of  being  invited  to  dinner  at  Prexie's  !  " 
said  little  Helen  Adams  in  awed  tones — "  to 
house  plays,  to  senior  dramatics,  and  to  all 
the  other  important  functions  of  the  college 
year."  It  took  a  long  time,  too,  because  of 
course  such  delicate  questions  couldn't  be  de- 
cided without  seeing  Mary  in  each  dress,  and 
getting  "  the  exact  combination  of  youth, 
beauty,  and  dignity  that  resulted,"  as  K.,  who 
explained  that  she  was  practising  "  school- 
ma'am  English,"  put  it. 

And  then  there  were  so  many  digressions. 
It  was  only  two  weeks  since  they  had  separated 
at  Harding,  but  in  the  meanwhile  a  great  deal 
seemed  to  have  happened.  Helen  had  ac- 
cepted a  position  to  teach  English  in  her  home 
high  school.  Eleanor  was  to  join  her  family 
after  the  wedding  for  a  hastily  planned  trip 
through  the  Canadian  Rockies.  Most  excit- 
ing of  all,  Bob  had  actually  established  her 
fresh-air  colony. 

"  It's  great,"  she  declared.  "  When  I  asked 
father  if  I  might  have  some  slum  children  out 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A,        21 

for  two  weeks  he  thought  I  was  joking,  so  he 
said  yes,  and  when  those  six  dirty  little  raga- 
muffins suddenly  dawned  upon  his  vision  last 
Saturday  night  he  was  furious.  But  I  coaxed 
a  little,  and  I  got  him  to  give  the  boys  a 
Fourth  of  July  oration,  and  when  Jimmie 
Scheverin  hopped  up  and  solemnly  thanked 
him  for  his  unique  and  inspiring  address,  he 
gave  in.  He's  staying  at  home  now  to  look 
after  things  while  I'm  gone.  He  said  he 
guessed  Wall  Street  could  get  along  without 
him." 

"  But  if  they're  only  going  to  stay  two 
weeks,  Bob,"  began  Babe  hastily,  "  I  don't 
see  why "  She  stopped  in  sudden  con- 
fusion. 

"  Why  what  ?  "  demanded  Katherine  curi- 
ously. 

"  Oh,  why  I've  talked  such  a  lot  about  it, 
she  means,"  explained  Bob  calmly.  "  When 
these  leave  there  are  others  coming,  Babe. 
There's  an  unlimited  supply  of  fresh-air 
children, — millions  of  them.  That's  why  we 
can't  keep  Jimmie  Scheverin  more  than  two 
weeks,  in  spite  of  his  enthusiasm  for  father's 
oratory  and  father's  enthusiasm  for  Jimmie. 


22        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

So  it's  no  use  trying  to  persuade  me  to  go  off 
on  frivolous  trips  with  you." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Babe  ?  "  asked  Betty 
idly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  I'm  going  any- 
where," said  Babe,  with  a  conscious  little 
giggle.  "  Where  are  you  ?  " 

Betty  explained  that  they  were  going  to 
have  a  cottage  for  a  month  or  two  at  some  sea- 
side place  near  New  York — it  hadn't  been  de- 
cided when  she  left  home,  but  father  was 
going  to  write  her.  This  information  the  B's 
and  Madeline  received  with  solicitous  and 
solemn  interest.  Indeed  they  asked  Betty  so 
many  questions,  that  Mary  finally  declared 
her  wedding  was  being  shamefully  neglected. 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  wedding,"  said 
Mrs.  Brooks,  appearing  at  that  minute, 
"  but  the  groom  is  on  the  piazza,  and  six  pres- 
ents have  come " 

In  the  rush  down-stairs  that  followed  Babbie 
pulled  Babe  into  a  corner.  "  You'll  let  the 
cat  out  of  the  bag  if  you're  not  more  careful," 
she  declared  reproachfully. 

"  I  will  be  more  careful,"  Babe  promised. 
"  But  why  doesn't  her  father  hurry  up  and 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.        23 

decide  ?  I  shall  burst  if  I  can't  talk  about  it 
pretty  soon." 

"The  loveliest  old  brass  samovar,"  cried 
Eleanor. 

"  From  Miss  Ferris  !  "  added  Betty.  "  That 
makes  it  all  the  nicer." 

"  And  a  silver  dish  from  Prexie  and  Mrs. 
Prexie." 

"That's  what  you  get  for  marrying  a 
faculty." 

"  Isn't  it  distinguished  ?  "  said  Babbie,  rush- 
ing after  the  others.  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  think  of  anything  else,  Babe." 

"  Well,  I  don't  go  abroad  every  summer 
the  way  you  do,"  explained  Babe  breathlessly. 
"  The  most  distinguished  wedding  that  ever 
happened  couldn't  make  me  forget  that  I'm 
going  to  see  Paris  and  London  and  all  the  rest 
of  Europe." 

"  Not  quite  all,  I  hope,"  laughed  Babbie, 
hurrying  to  shake  hands  with  Dr.  Hinsdale 
and  Marion  Lawrence,  who  was  going  to  be 
Mary's  maid  of  honor. 

Everybody  agreed  that  Mary's  impromptu 
wedding  was  a  decided  improvement  upon  the 
usual  cut-and-dried  variety.  There  was  cer- 


24        BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

tainly  nothing  cut  and  dried  about  it.  When 
the  sun  had  gone  below  the  tops  of  the  tall 
elm  trees  on  the  lawn  and  the  shadows  fell, 
long  and  cool,  on  the  velvety  grass,  Mary 
appeared  on  the  piazza,  wearing  a  soft  white 
dress — "that  didn't  look  a  bit  like  a  wedding," 
as  little  Helen  Adams  announced  with  her 
customary  frankness.  First  she  kissed  her 
mother  and  patted  her  father's  shoulder  lov- 
ingly, just  as  she  did  every  morning  before 
breakfast,  and  then  she  shook  hands  with 
everybody  else,  as  unconcernedly  as  if  it  was 
no  day  in  particular  and  all  her  dearest  friends 
had  merely  happened  to  drop  in  for  afternoon 
tea.  But  all  at  once,  before  anybody  except 
the  people  concerned  had  noticed  it,  there  was 
a  cleared  space  in  one  corner,  with  a  screen  of 
ferns  and  white  sweet  peas  for  a  background. 
Laurie  and  Roberta  and  Betty  were  close 
behind  Mary,  her  father  and  Dr.  Hinsdale 
were  beside  her,  the  "  near-bridesmaids  "  and 
"near-ushers,"  as  K.  had  flippantly  dubbed 
the  rest  of  the  bridal  party,  made  a  half  circle 
around  the  others,  and  Mary  Brooks,  with  one 
great  white  rose  in  her  hand  and  a  half- 
frightened,  half-happy  little  smile  on  her  lips, 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.        25 

was  being  married  to  George  Garrison  Hins- 
dale. 

When  it  was  over,  everybody  went  indoors 
and  had  all  sorts  of  cooling  things  to  eat 
and  drink.  Meanwhile  the  bridesmaids,  and 
"  near-brides  "  had  slipped  away  to  put  011 
some  Roumanian  peasant  costumes,  and  "  the 
next  number  on  the  program  " — according  to 
Katherine — was  some  curious  wedding  dances 
that  Roberta  had  learned  and  taught  to  the 
others.  Some  were  graceful  and  some  were 
amusing,  and  the  music  was  so  gay  that  it 
made  everybody  feel  like  dancing  too.  And 
that  was  what  they  did,  by  the  soft  light  of 
Japanese  lanterns,  until  it  was  time  to  fill 
one's  hands  with  confetti  and  old  slippers  and 
speed  the  wedding-pair  on  their  way  to  the 
desert  island  that  would  not  be  deserted  any 
more  that  summer. 

As  the  girls  sat  on  the  piazza  talking  it  all 
over  with  Mrs.  Brooks,  who  declared  she 
simply  couldn't  realize  that  "  little  Mary " 
was  old  enough  to  be  getting  married,  Dr. 
Brooks  came  out,  bringing  a  letter  for  Betty. 

"  Don't  ask  me  how  long  I've  had  it  in  my 
pocket,  Miss  Betty,"  he  said  with  a  twinkle 


26        BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

in  his  eyes.  "  It  beats  everything  how  a  wed- 
ding does  upset  me." 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter/'  laughed  Betty, 
"  as  long  as  you've  remembered  it  in  time  for 
me  to  know  where  I'm  going  to-morrow. 
It's  from  father,  telling  me  which  cottage 
they've  taken.  Will  you  excuse  me  if  I  read 
it  right  now,  Mrs.  Brooks  ?  " 

The  next  minute  Betty  gave  a  little  shriek 
of  delight,  dropped  her  letter,  and  seizing 
Babbie's  hands  whirled  her  madly  down  the 
length  of  the  piazza.  Finally  she  dropped 
breathlessly  down  on  the  broad  railing,  pull- 
ing Babbie  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Isn't  it  just  too  elegant  for  anything!" 
she  sighed.  "  And  to  think  how  near  Babe 
came  to  telling,  and  I  never  guessed  a  thing." 


CHAPTER  II 

A  GOING-AWAY  PARTY — HARDING  STYLE 

FOR  a  while  everybody  who  didn't  know 
what  the  excitement  was  about  asked  ques- 
tions at  once,  and  everybody  who  did,  which 
meant  the  B's  and  Madeline,  answered  at 
once, — a  process  resulting  in  that  delightful 
confusion  that  is  the  very  nicest  part  about 
telling  a  secret.  Finally  things  quieted  down 
a  little,  and  Babbie  was  called  upon  to  "  tell 
us  all  about  it." 

"  Why,  it's  just  this  way,"  she  explained. 
"  Mother's  doctor  ordered  her  to  Europe.  She 
isn't  strong,  you  know,  and  the  change  is  good 
for  her.  But  he  said  she  mustn't  motor  this 
time  because  it's  too  wearing  ;  but  must  travel 
quietly,  and  rest  a  lot,  and  so  on.  Well, 
mother  isn't  much  for  quiet  herself,  so  she  was 
afraid  I  might  be  bored,  just  with  her  and 
Marie,  and  no  car  to  run  while  she  takes  naps. 
So  she  told  me  to  ask  Bob  and  Babe  to  join  us 

27 


28        BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

— this  all  came  up  after  commencement,  you 
understand.  And  Babe  would,  but  Bob 
wouldn't,  because  of  her  fresh-air  kids  ;  so  then 
I  asked  Betty.  Not  that  she's  second  choice 
one  bit,"  added  Babbie  hastily,  "  only  of 
course  the  B's " 

"  You  needn't  apologize,"  Betty  interrupted 
her.  "  Of  course  the  B's  ask  each  other  first ! 
As  for  me,  I'm  too  overjoyed  to  be  going  to 
think  of  anything  else." 

"  But  I  don't  see  why  you  didn't  tell  her 
that  you'd  asked  her,"  said  little  Helen  Adams, 
the  practical  minded. 

"  Oh,  that  was  mother's  idea,"  Babbie  went 
on.  "  She  wanted  you  to  come,  Betty,  just  as 
much  as  I  did ;  but  she  said  that  she  didn't 
know  your  father  and  mother,  and  she  didn't 
know  how  they  would  feel  about  trusting  their 
daughter  for  a  whole  summer  to  a  perfect 
stranger.  And  she  thought  it  would  be  easier 
for  them  to  refuse,  for  that  or  any  other 
reason,  if  you  didn't  know.  Oh,  I've  just 
been  aching  to  have  you  get  that  letter,"  sighed 
Babbie  rapturously. 

"  But  suppose  it  had  said  the  wrong  thing," 
suggested  Babe. 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        29 

"  Then  we  could  have  talked  about  it  all  the 
same,"  put  in  Madeline.  "I  like  the  way  you 
leave  me  out  of  all  your  explanations,  Babbie 
Hildreth." 

"Well,  I  can't  think  of  everything  at  once," 
Babbie  defended  herself.  "  Besides,  you  just 
dropped  in." 

"  Yes,  I'm  only  the  impromptu  feature," 
said  Madeline  sadly.  "  I  always  am.  As  I 
have  often  explained  before,  I  was  born  that 
way." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  in  a  terrible  rush 
to  get  to  Sorrento,"  said  Rachel. 

"  I  was,"  admitted  Madeline.  "  But  after 
all  why  should  I  be  in  a  rush  ?  Why 
shouldn't  I  go  to  Sorrento  via  some  fun  just 
as  well  as  by  any  other  route  ?  Sorrento  will 
keep." 

"  Where  is  your  party  going,  Babbie  ?  "  in- 
quired Mrs.  Brooks,  who  had  been  much  en- 
tertained by  all  the  excitement. 

"  Well,  we're  going  to  sail  to  Glasgow, 
because  we  couldn't  get  passage  to  any  other 
port  on  such  short  notice.  And  then  the 
doctor  thinks  mother  ought  to  have  some  cool, 
bracing  air  to  begin  with.  After  that  we 


3o        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

don't  know.  Mother  says  that  we  girls  may 
choose,  and  of  course  Babe  and  I  didn't  want 
to  discuss  it  without  Betty.  And  now  Mad- 
eline says  that  it's  more  fun  just  deciding  as 
you  go  along.  Mother  thought  it  would  be 
dull  without  a  car/'  Babbie  went  on  eagerly, 
"  but  do  you  know  I  think  it's  going  to  be  more 
exciting  without  one,  because  when  you  have 
it  you  feel  as  if  you  ought  to  use  it,  and  you 
have  to  keep  to  good  roads.  I  always  thought 
that  when  James  didn't  want  to  go  to  a  place, 
or  Marie  didn't,  James  said  the  road  was  bad. 
Marie  hates  little  villages,  and  I  just  love  them. 
And  Madeline  will  think  up  all  sorts  of  queer, 
fascinating  things  to  do." 

"  The  principal  feature,  though  im- 
promptu," murmured  Madeline.  "  Are  you 
going  away  back  home  again  for  the  week 
before  we  sail,  Betty  ?  " 

Betty  shook  her  head.  "  Nan  has  packed 
the  things  she  thinks  I'll  want,  and  I'm  to 
join  her  at  Shelter  Island  and  help  get  the 
cottage  ready  for  the  rest  of  the  family. 
They'll  all  be  here  in  time  to  see  me  off." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  us  all  down  there  to 
spend  the  day  ?  "  suggested  Madeline.  "  Then 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        31 

perhaps  our  stay-at-home  friends  would  take 
the  hint  and  give  a  going-away  party  for  us." 

"  But  we  shan't  be  here,"  chorused  Helen, 
Roberta,  Rachel,  Eleanor,  and  Katherine. 

"  And  I  couldn't  possibly  come  down  for  all 
day.  Daddy  won't  desert  Wall  Street  so  soon 
again,"  added  Bob  sadly. 

"  It's  a  shame  not  to  have  the  party.  We 
could  think  of  lots  of  lovely  things  to  do," 
sighed  Roberta. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  doing  them  to- 
morrow?"  proposed  Dr.  Brooks.  "  You  can't 
leave  Mrs.  Brooks  and  me  too  suddenly,  you 
know.  We've  got  to  get  used  to  missing  Mary 
gradually.  Now  I'll  take  you  all  to  town  in 
the  morning  and  give  you  lunch  at  my  club. 
By  the  time  we  get  back,  the  house  will  be  in 
order  again  and  we'll  have  that  going-away 
party  to  amuse  us  during  the  evening." 

There  was  a  little  objection  at  first,  for  all 
the  girls  had  expected  to  leave  the  next  day  ; 
but  Dr.  Brooks  speedily  overruled  their  argu- 
ments. They  had  come  to  the  wedding,  he 
declared,  and  cheering  up  the  bereft  parents 
was  part  of  the  ceremony — everybody  knew 
that ;  whereas  one  day  at  the  other  end  of  the 


32        BETTY   WALES,  E.  A. 

trip  wouldn't  matter  at  all.  So  Babe  nomi- 
nated Bob  and  Roberta  as  committee  on  ar- 
rangements for  the  going-away  party  and,  ac- 
cording to  "  Merry  Heart  "  procedure,  uncere- 
moniously declared  them  elected,  after  which 
Dr.  Brooks  carried  them  off  to  his  study  to 
make  plans  for  the  next  day's  campaign. 

The  going-away  party  was  a  distinctly  col- 
legiate function,  marked  by  all  the  originality 
and  joyous  abandon  that  belong  by  right  to 
every  Harding  festivity.  Contrary  to  social 
precedent  it  began  with  toasts.  That  was 
Eleanor's  fault,  Bob  explained.  She  had 
made  a  mistake  and  put  ice  in  the  lemonade 
too  soon,  and  so  it  had  to  be  drunk  immedi- 
ately. So  Katherine  grew  eloquent  on  "  the 
Sorrows  of  Parting  for  the  Second  Time  in 
Two  Weeks,  when  you  have  exhausted  all 
your  pretty  speeches  on  the  first  round."  Bob 
described  "  Europe  As  I  Shall  Not  See  It,"  and 
Babe  "Europe  As  I  Hope  to  See  It  if  not 
Prevented  by  the  Frivolity  of  my  Friends." 
Madeline  was  really  witty  in  her  account 
of  "  the  Impromptu  Elements  in  Foreign 
Travel — myself,  the  English  climate,  and 
others."  Rachel  toasted  "  the  Desert  Island 


BETTY   WALES,  E.  A.        33 

Honeymooners,  absent  but  not  forgotten,"  and 
Dr.  Brooks  explained  "  the  Uses  of  Near- 
Bridesmaids,"  to  the  infinite  amusement  of 
his  guests.  After  that  Roberta  said  she  was 
sorry  about  there  not  being  time  for  the  other 
toasts,  but  they  were  all  written  down  on  the 
program  and  if  everybody  would  tell  Babbie 
that  hers  was  too  cute  for  anything  and 
Eleanor  that  she  could  certainly  make  the 
best  speeches,  they  would  pass  on  to  the 
"  stunts." 

These  consisted  of  examinations  to  test  the 
fitness  of  the  European  party  for  its  trip. 
Betty  was  the  first  victim.  She  was  required 
to  tie  on  a  chiffon  veil  "  so  you  will  look  too 
sweet  for  anything  and  all  the  men  on  board 
the  boat  will  be  crazy  about  you," — though 
Rachel  pointed  out  that  it  wasn't  much  of  a 
test,  because  Betty  always  looked  that  way. 
Next  Madeline  was  requested  to  prove  that 
she  knew  how  to  be  seasick  on  the  proper  oc- 
casions. Babe,  whose  French  accent  had  been 
a  college  joke,  was  made  to  "  parler-vous  "  an 
order  for  lunch,  though  she  protested  hotly 
that  Babbie  and  Madeline  were  going  to  do 
that  part — she  had  made  her  family  promise 


34        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

solemnly  that  she  shouldn't  be  bothered  with 
learning  anything  ever  any  more,  till  she 
wanted  to.  And  Babbie,  who  had  announced 
in  one  breath  that  she  was  going  to  travel 
with  just  one  little  steamer  trunk  this  time, 
and  in  the  next  that  she  should  buy  four 
dresses  at  least  in  Paris,  was  invited  to  demon- 
strate how  she  meant  to  carry  the  clothes  she 
needed  for  the  trip  and  the  four  dresses  all  in 
"  one  little  trunk." 

"  Not  to  mention  the  things  you  are  going 
to  bring  home  to  us,"  Bob  reminded  her. 

"  Oh,  but  I  shall  have  Marie  pack  the 
dresses  in  one  of  mother's  trunks,"  Babbie 
explained  easily. 

"Crawl!"  declared  K.  "As  a  forfeit  you 
are  condemned  to  do  '  Mary  had  a  little  lamb  ' 
in  your  best  style." 

"  And  Roberta  ought  to  do  the  jabber-wock 
for  us,"  suggested  Eleanor. 

"  And  Madeline  ought  to  sing  a  French 
song,"  added  Betty. 

So  all  the  "  Merry  Heart "  stunts,  that  had 
amused  them  at  Harding  for  four  long  years, 
and  were  just  as  funny  now  as  they  had  ever 
been,  were  merrily  gone  through  with. 


BETTY   WALES,  E.  A.        35 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  declaimed  Bob  at 
last,  "  we  have  at  last  arrived  at  the  real  busi- 
ness of  this  farewell  party,  which  is  the  pres- 
entation of  a  few  slight  tokens  of  our  affec- 
tion, and  the  delicate  intimation  of  the  objects 
of  art  —  " 

"  Or  wearing  apparel,"  put  in  K. 

"  That  we  should  most  like  to  get  in  re- 
turn," concluded  Bob  pompously,  with  a  with- 
ering glance  in  K.'s  direction.  "  I  may  say  in 
passing  that  the  aforesaid  intimation  is  strictly 
by  request." 

The  stay-at-homes  and  Dr.  Brooks  disap- 
peared for  a  few  minutes  and  came  back  in  a 
laughing,  bundle-laden  procession,  with  Dr. 
Brooks  at  its  head. 

"  I  heartily  approve  of  your  resolution  to 
travel  with  as  little  baggage  as  possible,"  said 
the  doctor  solemnly,  "  so  I've  put  up  these 
prescriptions  for  seasickness  in  as  concen- 
trated a  form  as  possible."  And  he  presented 
Betty  and  Babbie  each  with  a  half-gallon 
bottle,  and  Babe  and  Madeline  with  huge 
wooden  boxes  marked  "  Pills."  A  tag  on 
Babe's  read,  "  To  be  exchanged  for  fruit  on 
day  of  sailing."  Madeline's  tag  said,  "  Good 


36        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

for  the  same  size  at  Huyler's,"  while  Betty's 
specified  salted  almonds,  and  Babbie's  pre- 
served ginger. 

"  I'll  see  that  the  goods  are  delivered  at 
your  boat,"  the  doctor  assured  them,  "  and  if 
the  ship's  physician  doesn't  get  some  practice 
out  of  you  it  certainly  won't  be  my  fault." 

"  But  you  haven't  told  us  what  you  want 
us  to  bring  you,"  said  Betty. 

"  Yourselves  safe  and  sound,"  said  Dr. 
Brooks  gallantly. 

The  girls  were  not  so  modest.  Helen,  who 
had  stayed  at  home  from  the  city  to  print  the 
travelers'  names  in  indelible  ink  on  three 
dozen  laundry  markers  apiece,  confessed  shyly 
that  she  had  always  wanted  a  good  photograph 
of  the  Mona  Lisa. 

"  To  think  that  you're  going  to  see  the  real 
one !  "  she  said.  "  I'm  going  to  begin  right 
away  to  save  my  money  for  a  trip  abroad." 

"  So  am  I,"  echoed  Rachel. 

"  And  I,"  from  K. 

European  travel  was  evidently  the  "  Merry 
Hearts'  "  latest  enthusiasm. 

"  In  the  meantime,"  laughed  Eleanor. 
"  here  are  some  baggage  tags  for  the  ones  who 


BETTY  WALES,B.A.        37 

are  really  going.  They  say  you  have  to  mark 
all  your  bags  and  trunks  over  there,  because 
they  don't  have  checks,  and  you  just  have 
to  pick  your  things  out  of  the  big  pile  on  the 
station  platforms." 

"  What  elegance,"  cried  Betty,  holding  her 
shining  silver  marker  out  at  arm's  length  for 
inspection.  "  And  what  shall  we  bring  you, 
Eleanor,  dear?" 

"  A  duke,  if  you  don't  mind,"  said  Eleanor 
solemnly,  and  Betty  solemnly  wrote  it  down 
on  the  slip  of  paper  on  which  she  was  record- 
ing all  the  girls'  wishes. 

Roberta  gave  them  each  a  tiny  book  of  travel 
sketches  not  too  big  to  slip  into  a  shopping-bag 
— one  was  about  English  cathedrals,  another 
about  English  inns,  and  the  third  and  fourth 
described  some  Scotch  and  English  castles. 

"  They  look  rather  interesting,"  said  Roberta 
modestly,  "  and  I  remembered  that  none  of 
you  was  specially  fond  of  history." 

"  Don't  throw  it  in  my  face  that  I  once  got 
a  low-grade,"  Babe  reproached  her.  "  Say  over 
again  the  thing  that  you  wanted,  Roberta." 

"  A  gargoyle,"  repeated  Roberta. 

Betty  looked  at  her  despairingly.     "  Please 


38         BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

spell  it,  Roberta.  I  suppose  Babbie  and 
Madeline  know  just  what  it  is." 

Babbie  looked  mystified.  "  Why  should  I 
know  anything  like  that,  Betty  ?  " 

"  Because  you've  been  to  Paris  six  separate 
times,"  declared  Madeline,  "  and  motored  all 
through  France  besides.  You  evidently  don't 
go  in  hard  for  architecture,  Babbie." 

"  Oh,  it's  architecture,  is  it?  "  said  Babbie  in 
relieved  tones.  "  Then  I  don't  see  how  we  can 
bring  it  home." 

"  Only  a  picture  of  one,"  Roberta  expostu- 
lated. 

"  It's  not  exactly  architecture,  Babbie," 
teased  Madeline.  "  It's  an  animal,  generally. 
Wouldn't  you  like  a  real  one  better  than  a 
picture,  Roberta?  They  have  them  in  the 
Rue  Bonaparte  for  two  francs  each." 

By  this  time  everybody  was  excited  on  the 
subject  of  gargoyles  and  ready  to  listen  while 
Roberta  explained  that  gargoyles  are  the 
grotesque  figures,  usually  in  the  shape  of 
animals,  that  ornament  Gothic  cathedrals, 
especially  the  French  ones. 

"  They're  waterspouts  as  well  as  orna- 
ments," protested  Madeline.  "  Babbie  Hil- 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.         39 

dreth,  you  don't  half  know  your  Paris.  Pre- 
pare to  walk  down  to  Notre  Dame  in  the  rain 
with  me  and  see  the  gargoyles  work." 

"  They  sound  perfectly  fascinating,"  said 
Rachel.  "  Here's  a  picture  of  one  in  this  book 
on  architecture  that  I've  brought  for  you.  I  be- 
lieve I'd  rather  have  one  than  a  pair  of  gloves. 
Is  two  francs  a  lot  of  money,  Madeline  ?  " 

"  If  it  isn't,  I  want  a  gargoyle  too,"  declared 
K.  "  Is  there  more  than  one  kind  ?  " 

"  Enough  kinds  to  suit  all  tastes,"  laughed 
Madeline.  "  It  will  be  great  fun  picking  out 
appropriate  gargoyles  for  the  three  of  you. 
What  have  you  in  that  bundle,  K.  ?  " 

K.  tossed  the  fat  parcel  at  the  travelers, 
who  found  inside  a  pillow  covered  with 
brown  linen,  with  a  19 —  banner  fastened 
across  it  by  way  of  ornament.  "  I  hope  you 
won't  all  feel  like  sleeping  in  your  steamer 
chairs  at  the  same  time,"  she  said.  "  I 
couldn't  afford  but  one  pillow,  and  I  hadn't 
time  to  make  any  more  banners." 

Bob's  gift  wras  four  little  towels,  just  the 
right  size  to  slip  into  a  traveling  bag  for  use 
on  trains  or  in  railway  stations,  a  fat  little 
pincushion  with  a  bow  to  hang  it  up  by  on 


40        BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

shipboard,  and  a  little  silk  bag  fitted  with 
needles,  bodkins,  thread,  darning  cotton, 
buttons,  hooks,  a  tiny  pair  of  scissors,  and 
everything  else  that  one  could  need  in  a 
mending  outfit. 

"  A  cousin  of  mine  gave  it  to  me  for  a  grad- 
uating present,"  explained  Bob,  when  the  bag 
had  been  duly  admired,  "  but  it  makes  me 
sort  of  tired  to  look  at  it  and  think  how  many 
things  it  would  mend,  and  as  the  cousin  is 
safe  in  California,  and  I  knew  Betty  would 
take  to  it,  I'm  passing  it  on." 

"  We  shall  all  take  to  it,  I  guess,  as  often 
as  our  clothes  come  to  pieces,"  declared  Babe. 
"  What  shall  we  bring  you,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — something  queer  and 
out-of-the-way,  that  I  can  put  on  my  dear  old 
Harding  desk  or  hang  up  on  the  wall  above 
it.  I  don't  mean  a  picture,  but  any  queer  old 
thing  that  you  would  know  came  from  abroad 
the  minute  you  set  eyes  on  it  from  afar." 

"  Won't  that  be  fun  to  hunt  up,"  murmured 
Betty  ecstatically,  adding  Bob's  choice  to  the 
others.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Brooks,  what  shall  we 
bring  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  she'd  rather  have,"  cried 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        41 

Babbie,  leaning  over  to  whisper  something  in 
Betty's  ear  and  Betty  laughed  and  wrote  a 
few  words  on  her  paper.  "  It's  something 
that  we  know  you  admire,"  explained  Babbie, 
"  because  Mary  had  one  nearly  the  same  and 
you  said  you  wished  you  were  a  bride,  so 
people  would  give  you  such  things.  But  per- 
haps you'd  rather  choose  for  yourself." 

But  Mrs.  Brooks  professed  herself  quite 
willing  to  abide  by  Babbie's  choice.  She  had 
already  told  the  girls  that  her  going-away 
present  to  them  was  to  be  flowers,  so  "  the  real 
business  of  the  meeting,"  as  Bob  had  expressed 
it,  was  now  over  ;  and  as  everybody  was  leav- 
ing early  the  next  morning,  it  seemed  best  to 
adjourn. 

There  was  nothing  dismal  about  the  good- 
byes next  day.  Bob  was  the  only  one  who 
would  be  at  the  steamer  to  wave  the  travelers 
a  farewell,  but  the  rest  promised  to  write 
steamer  letters,  and  as  Roberta  said,  "  some- 
thing will  turn  up  before  long  to  bring  us  to- 
gether again.  Things  happen  so  fast  in  the 
wide,  wide  world." 

"  It  doesn't  look  as  if  a  September  reunion 
would  amount  to  much,"  said  K.,  "  with  three 


42        BETTT    WALES,  B.A 

school-ma'ams  and  a  foreign  resident  in  the 
crowd." 

"  Somebody  must  get  married,"  announced 
Babe.  "  People  can  always  manage  to  come 
to  weddings.  You're  all  going  to  be  mar- 
ried sooner  or  later,  except  me  and  Bob — 
we're  the  man-haters'  union,  you  know — and 
you  might  just  as  well  be  accommodating  and 
hurry  up  about  it." 

"  You're  going  to  bring  me  a  duke  from 
abroad,"  Eleanor  reminded  her  laughingly. 
"  If  you  pick  out  a  nice  one,  I  may  decide  to 
use  him  for  a  husband." 

"  Of  course  we'll  pick  out  a  nice  one. 
Won't  it  be  fun  assisting  at  the  nuptials  of  a 
duke,  girls  ?  Grander  even  than  the  wedding 
of  a  Harding  professor." 

"  I  hereby  prophesy  that  Babe's  wedding  is 
next  on  the  list,"  cried  K.  gaily. 

"  Why,  Katherine  Kittredge,"  retorted 
Babe  indignantly,  "  haven't  I  always 
said " 

"  That's  the  point,"  K.  interrupted  her. 
"  Professed  man-haters  always  marry  young. 
There  was  Jane  Westover  and — there's  my 
train.  Besides,  you  owe  it  to  the  crowd  to  be 


BET^TT   WALES,  B.A.        43 

accommodating  and  abandon  man-hating  in 
the  interests  of  matrimony  and  reunions." 

"  My  wedding  next  on  the  list,  indeed !  " 
murmured  Babe  angrily,  as  she  waved  her 
handkerchief  at  the  departing  train.  "  We're 
going  to  be  bachelor  maids,  aren't  we,  Bob? 
with  saddle-horses  and  Scotch  collies  instead 
of  cats  and  canaries " 

"  And  fresh-air  children  in  the  summers," 
added  Bob  absently.  "  I  wonder  what  daddy's 
doing  to  keep  Jimmie  Scheverin  out  of  mis- 
chief. Here's  our  train  to  town,  girls." 


CHAPTER  III 

OFF   TO    BONNIE    SCOTLAND 

"  I  CAN'T  believe  yet  that  I'm  really  go- 
ing I  "  Betty  Wales  stood  on  the  promenade 
deck  of  the  Glasgow  boat,  her  arms  full  of 
Mrs.  Brooks's  roses  and  Dr.  Brooks's  salted 
almonds.  Will's  arms  were  full  of  flowers 
too,  and  the  Smallest  Sister  felt  very  important 
indeed  because  she  had  been  entrusted  with  a 
fat  package  of  steamer  letters  from  Betty's 
Cleveland  friends. 

"  Beginning  to  feel  a  little  homesick  al- 
ready ?  "  teased  Will. 

Betty  winked  hard,  and  mother  told  Will 
that  he  wasn't  playing  fair,  and  suggested  that 
they  should  find  the  girls'  stateroom  and  leave 
some  of  their  bundles  in  it. 

"  Miss  Ayres  is  having  a  hunt  for  her  trunk," 
said  Nan,  joining  them.  "  It  isn't  in  your 
stateroom,  and  it  doesn't  seem  to  be  on  the 
wharf." 

44 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.        45 

"  Why,  she  said  she  marked  it  to  be  put  in 
the  hold,"  said  Betty.  "  Has  she  asked  if  it's 
there  ?  "  And  Will  was  hurried  off  to  find 
Madeline  and  inquire. 

It  wasn't  easy  finding  anybody  or  anything 
on  that  dock.  The  edges  were  crowded  with 
people,  the  centre  was  filled  with  a  confused 
mass  of  struggling  truck  horses  and  shouting 
drivers  who  were  all  terribly  anxious  to  get 
somewhere,  and  didn't  seem  to  make  the  least 
progress  in  spite  of  all  their  noise.  Deck- 
hands were  busy  with  trunks  and  boxes,  which 
they  fastened  to  a  pulley  and  swung  out  over 
the  heads  of  the  people,  and  then  up  and  down 
again,  into  the  hold.  Once  in  a  while  a 
hansom  wriggled  its  way  through  the  drays  to 
let  out  an  excited  passenger,  who  always  acted 
as  if  he  had  expected  to  find  the  boat  gone 
without  him. 

That  was  the  way  Bob  acted,  as  she  jumped 
out  of  her  hansom  and  ran  up  the  gangplank, 
holding  a  small  boy  tight  by  each  hand  and 
not  paying  the  least  attention  to  Babe  and 
Betty,  who  shrieked  frantically  at  her  from 
their  lookout  on  the  upper  deck. 

"  I    had    to    bring   these,"  she   explained 


46        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

breathlessly,  when  the  Smallest  Sister  had  in- 
tercepted her  and  conducted  her  to  her  friends. 
"  The  housekeeper  took  two  off  my  hands  for 
the  day  and  the  coachman  took  two,  but 
nobody  would  take  Jimmie  or  Joe." 

"  A  guy  on  de  dock's  tryin'  to  spiel  wid 
ye,"  announced  Jirnmie,  who  had  lost  no 
time  in  climbing  up  on  the  ship's  railing  ;  and 
there,  sure  enough,  was  Mr.  Richard  Blake, 
with  a  fresh  supply  of  flowers,  making  a 
megaphone  of  his  hands  and  trying  to  ask 
where  he  should  find  Madeline. 

"  Somewhere  down  there,"  shrieked  back 
Betty.  "  But  you'd  better  come  up  here  and 
wait.  Babbie  and  Mrs.  Hildreth  haven't  even 
come  yet,"  she  added  to  the  others.  "  What 
if  they  should  be  too  late  ?  " 

"  Seasoned  travelers  never  come  on  broad 
till  the  last  minute,"  said  Nan.  "  It  shows 
that  you're  new  to  the  business  to  be  standing 
around  like  this." 

"  Oh,  but  it's  such  fun  to  watch  every- 
thing," objected  Babe.  "  I  don't  mind  people's 
knowing  that  it's  my  first  trip.  It  is,  you 
see.  What's  that  bell  ringing  for  ?  " 

Mr.  Wales  looked  at  his  watch.     "  It  means 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        47 

that  in  five  minutes  more  they're  going  to  put 
us  fellows  off." 

At  that  Babe  got  into  a  corner  with  her 
mother  and  father,  and  Betty  into  another 
with  her  family,  leaving  Bob  to  entertain  Mr. 
Blake  until  Madeline  sauntered  up  with  the 
cheerful  news  that  her  trunk  seemed  to  be  lost 
"  for  keeps." 

"  Just  send  it  along  if  you  happen  to  run 
into  it  anywhere,  Dickie,"  she  said,  and  Mr. 
Blake  promised  to  find  it  if  it  was  anywhere 
in  "  little  old  New  York." 

When  the  second  bell  had  rung  and  the  boat 
began  to  empty  of  its  visitors  the  girls  re- 
membered Babbie  again  and  began  to  be  really 
alarmed.  But  just  as  Betty  was  frantically 
trying  to  ask  her  father,  who  had  established 
his  party  on  the  edge  of  the  dock,  what  in  the 
world  they  should  do  if  the  Hildreths  didn't 
come,  Babbie  appeared,  cool  and  serene  in 
the  prettiest  of  silk  traveling  suits.  "  Oh,  I 
thought  you  knew  we'd  come  on  board,"  she 
apologized.  "  Mother's  lying  down  and  Marie 

is  with  her,  and  I "  Babbie  blushed 

prettily.  "  Jack  is  awfully  shy,  and  he  just 
hates  to  meet  a  lot  of  people,  so  we  stayed 


48         BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

down  below.  I'm  so  sorry."  Babbie  caught 
sight  of  a  tall  youth  shouldering  his  way  tc 
the  edge  of  the  wharf,  and  waved  a  big  bunch 
of  violets  at  him. 

"  I  wish  we  could  start  now,"  said  Madeline, 
"  This  shouting  last  speeches  indefinitely  isn'1 
all  that  it  might  be.  Dick  looks  bored  tc 
death." 

"  They're  taking  up  the  gangplank,"  an- 
nounced Babe  excitedly,  tossing  a  rose  to  Will 

Just  then  a  hansom  drew  up  with  a  jerk,  a 
distinguished-looking  gentleman  tumbled  out 
Jimmie  Scheverin  wriggled  away  from  Bob's 
firm  grasp  and  jumped  to  the  horse's  head,  and 
the  driver  called  to  the  crowd  in  general  tc 
"  lend  him  a  hand  "  with  the  trunk. 

"  No  use  hurrying  now.  They've  given  you 
up,"  called  somebody,  and  the  crowd  roared 
with  laughter. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  give  de  guy  anudder  chanst," 
cried  Jimmie  shrilly,  and  even  the  dignified 
gentleman  laughed  at  that.  He  could  afford 
to,  for  they  were  letting  down  the  gangplank 
again. 

"  He's  a  prominent  senator,"  Babe  whispered 
eagerly.  "  I  heard  a  man  say  so.  Think  of 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.        49 

having  a  boat  wait  for  you  !  Well,  we're  off 
at  last.  Dear  mummy !  Goodness,  father 
waved  so  hard  that  he  almost  fell  into  the 
water  I  Betty  Wales,  are  you  crying  too?  " 

The  wharf  was  backing  away  from  them  ; 
the  crowd  of  excited  people,  shouting  and 
waving  flags  and  handkerchiefs,  was  only  a 
great  blur  of  color  now. 

"  Well,  that's  over,"  said  Madeline  gaily. 
"  I  hate  good-byes.  Babe,  cheer  up.  It's  only 
for  three  months,  and  you're  going  to  have  the 
time  of  your  life.  Come  and  get  bath  hours 
and  places  for  our  steamer  chairs,  and  then  we 
can  explore  the  boat  a  little  before  it's  time  to 
eat  our  first  and  possibly  our  last  meal  afloat." 

"  And  we  must  look  at  the  mail,"  added 
Babbie,  "  and  give  most  of  our  flowers  to  the 
stewardess  to  put  on  our  table  in  the  dining- 
room." 

"  Aren't  you  glad  we've  got  some  experi- 
enced travelers  in  the  party  ?  "  laughed  Babe, 
wiping  away  the  tears,  and  taking  Betty's  arm 
she  marched  her  off  after  the  others.  "  Now 
how  did  they  know  that  was  the  deck  stew- 
ard ?  I  should  be  afraid  of  mixing  him  up 
with  the  captain." 


50        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Three  days  later  Babe  smiled  loftily  at  the 
recollection  of  such  pitiful  ignorance.  She 
had  explored  the  ship  from  stem  to  stern,  had 
stood  on  the  bridge  with  the  captain,  danced 
with  the  ship's  doctor,  exchanged  views  on 
the  weather  with  the  senator  who  had  kept 
the  boat  waiting,  played  deck  golf  and  shuffle- 
board,  and  made  friends  with  all  the  children 
on  the  ship.  All  this  she  had  done  the  first 
day  out.  The  other  two  she  had  spent  for- 
lornly in  her  berth,  with  the  stewardess  to 
wait  on  her,  Babbie  and  Madeline  to  amuse 
her,  when  she  felt  equal  to  being  amused,  and 
Betty  to  keep  her  company. 

"  Betty's  getting  ready  to  come  up  here 
too,"  she  announced  on  the  third  afternoon, 
tucking  herself  into  the  chair  beside  Babbie. 
"  Now  we  can  decide  where  we're  going." 

"  Oh,  there's  time  enough  for  that,"  objected 
Madeline  lazily.  "  Let's  enjoy  the  luxuri- 
ous idleness  of  shipboard  while  we  can." 

Babbie  yawned.  "  I  don't  enjoy  it.  A  day 
or  so  is  all  right,  but  eight !  " 

"  Specially  if  you're  inclined  to  be  seasick," 
put  in  Babe  with  feeling. 

Betty  appeared  just  then,  and  she  agreed 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        51 

with  the  B's.  "  It's  all  right  if  you're  an  in- 
valid or  tired,  but  as  for  me,  I  don't  see  why 
people  talk  so  much  about  the  joys  of  the  trip 
across.  Being  cooped  up  so  long  is  stupid,  and 
makes  everybody  else  act  stupid,  and  it's  just 
dreadfully  dull." 

"  And  there  aren't  any  possibilities  in  it, 
somehow,"  added  Babe.  "  Of  course  you  may 
meet  some  interesting  people,  but  you  can't  do 
anything  but  just  talk  to  them  a  little  and 
pass  on." 

"  Like  '  ships  that  pass  in  the  night,'  "  quoted 
Babbie  solemnly.  "  I  always  associate  the 
people  I've  met  on  shipboard  with  too  much 
to  eat  and  no  place  to  put  your  clothes." 

"  And  seasickish  headaches,"  added  Babe. 
"  Isn't  it  almost  time  for  bouillon  ?  The  doc- 
tor told  me  to  keep  eating  and  I'd  be  all  right." 

"  There's  the  bugle  for  it  this  minute,"  said 
Madeline,  "  and  after  that  I  propose  a  stunt. 
Let's  all  go  off  separately  and  see  what  excite- 
ment we  can  unearth, — who  can  unearth  the 
most,  I  mean.  I  don't  agree  with  you  about 
the  possibilities  of  shipboard.  A  town  of 
seven  hundred  people  certainly  has  possi- 
bilities, and  that's  what  we  are, — a  floating 


52        BETTT   WALES,   B.  A. 

town.  In  order  to  make  the  contest  more  ex- 
citing, let's  give  the  winner  a  chance  to  say 
where  we  shall  go  first  from  Glasgow." 

"  Goodie!"  cried  Babbie.  "That's  some- 
thing like.  I  knew  you'd  think  up  things  to 
do,  Madeline.  Do  you  two  invalids  feel  equal 
to  so  much  exertion  ?  " 

The  invalids  declared  that  after  they  had 
had  their  mid-afternoon  repast  they  should 
feel  equal  to  anything,  and  five  minutes  later 
the  four  chairs  were  deserted. 

"  Time  limit,  two  hours,"  called  Madeline, 
as  she  disappeared  around  the  corner.  "  Meet 
in  our  chairs,  of  course." 

Betty  lingered  a  little.  Madeline's  plan 
sounded  very  amusing,  but  she  hadn't  much 
idea  how  to  carry  out  her  part  of  it.  She 
sauntered  slowly  down  the  deck,  past  the  row 
of  steamer  chairs,  many  of  whose  occupants 
smiled  and  nodded  at  her  as  she  passed.  They 
might  be  very  exciting  people,  Betty  reflected, 
but  she  should  never  find  it  out.  Madeline 
could  do  that  sort  of  thing,  not  she.  At  the 
end  of  the  deck  Betty  stopped  and  leaning 
over  the  railing  looked  off  out  to  sea,  wonder- 
ing what  Will  and  Nan  and  the  Smallest  Sister 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.        53 

were  doing  just  then.  Presently  her  glance 
fell  to  the  deck  below.  It  was  full  of  the 
queerest  people.  They  were  having  a  mid- 
afternoon  lunch  too, — drinking  it  with  gusto 
out  of  big  tin  cups.  Most  of  them  were  men, 
but  near  the  cabin-door  sprawled  several  chil- 
dren, and  a  few  women,  with  bright-colored 
shawls  over  their  heads,  sunned  themselves  by 
the  railing. 

"  Oh,  that  must  be  the  steerage  !  "  thought 
Betty,  and  didn't  know  she  had  said  it  out 
loud  until  somebody  answered  her. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  steerage,"  said  a  deep  voice 
close  to  her  elbow.  "  Should  you  like  to  go 
down  and  see  what  the  steerage  is  like  ?  " 

Betty  looked  around  and  recognized  the 
senator  who  had  kept  the  boat  waiting. 

"  Why — yes,"  she  began,  blushing  at  the 
idea  of  talking  to  such  a  great  man.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  it,  only — isn't  it  dreadfully  dirty  ?  " 

The  senator  laughed.  "  I  hope  not.  If  it 
is,  we  needn't  stay  long.  You  see — it's  a  pro- 
found secret  from  the  ship's  officials — but  I'm 
going  over  on  purpose  to  investigate  steerages. 
I'm  seriously  thinking  of  coming  back  in  one 
from  Liverpool." 


54        BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

11  You  are  !  "  Betty's  eyes  opened  wide  in 
amazement.  "  Without  letting  any  one  know 
who  you  are  ?  " 

The  senator  nodded.  "  Exactly.  And  by 
the  same  token  I'm  making  this  little  visit 
to-day  quite  impromptu.  Want  to  come? 
You  can  talk  to  the  women  and  find  out  if 
they're  being  made  comfortable." 

"  If  this  isn't  exciting,  I  don't  know  what 
is,"  Betty  reflected,  following  the  senator  down 
the  steps  to  the  lower  deck  and  past  the 
guard, — who  looked  very  threatening  at  first, 
but  bowed  profoundly  when  he  saw  the  sena- 
tor's card, — into  the  network  of  low-ceiled 
passages  beyond  the  tiny  square  of  open  deck. 
It  was  dirty,  or  at  least  it  was  unpleasantly 
smelly.  But  by  the  time  Betty  had  satisfied 
her  curiosity  and  would  much  rather  have 
turned  and  gone  straight  back  to  her  com- 
fortable steamer  chair,  the  senator  had  forgot- 
ten all  about  her,  and  surrounded  by  a  group 
of  eager  men  was  deep  in  his  investigation. 

"  I  can't  interrupt,  and  I  can't  very  well 
skip  off  without  saying  anything,"  thought 
Betty  sadly,  "  because  he  might  remember  me 
after  a  while  and  try  to  find  me." 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.        55 

Judging  by  their  conversation  with  the 
senator,  most  of  the  steerage  passengers  seemed 
to  be  men — Scotch  or  Irish,  going  back  to  the 
"  Ould  Country  "  for  a  visit  to  the  "  ould 
folks."  Betty  listened  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  went  on  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  which 
opened  out  into  a  room  that  seemed  to  be 
salon  and  dining-hall  combined.  Though 
this  room  was  nearly  empty,  the  air  was  close 
and  stifling  and  Betty  was  going  back  to  the 
deck  to  wait  there  for  the  senator,  when  her 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  group  of  women 
gathered  in  one  corner.  They  were  standing 
around  a  little  figure  that  sat  huddled  in  a 
forlorn  heap  on  the  wooden  bench  along  the 
wall.  The  woman — or  the  child,  for  she 
looked  hardly  more  than  that — hugged  a  baby 
tight  in  her  arms,  and  rocked  it  back  and  for- 
ward, moaning  pitifully  to  herself  all  the 
time. 

Betty  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then 
went  timidly  up  to  the  group.  "  What's  the 
matter  ?  "  she  asked  softly  of  one  of  the  by- 
standers, a  fat  Irishwoman.  "  Can't  we  do 
something  to  stop  her  crying  like  that  ?  " 

"  Ah,  it's  sore  thruble  she's  in,   the  pore 


56        BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

young  crayther,"  explained  the  woman 
eagerly.  "  Her  fayther  and  her  mither  and 
her  two  brothers  died  in  the  same  week  av 
the  dipthery,  and  she's  takin'  her  baby  sister 
home  to  the  ould  folks.  An'  she's  lost  the 
money  for  her  ticket  to  County  Cork." 

"  You  mean  she  hasn't  any  money  at  all  ?  " 
asked  Betty  in  amazement. 

"  Niver  a  cint,"  the  sympathetic  Irish- 
woman assured  her.  "  Shure,  'twas  lost  or 
stolen  the  first  day  out.  Anyhow  'tis  gone." 

"  An'  we've  none  of  us  ony  over  to  be 
lendin'  her,"  another  woman  put  in.  "  The 
times  is  that  bad,  an'  all." 

"  How  much  does  it  cost  to  go  to  County 
Cork  ?  " 

"  A  pound  an'  six  from  Derry." 

"  How  much  is  that,  and  how  do  you  get  to 
'  Derry  '  ?  "  asked  Betty  in  bewilderment. 

"  Oh,  the  boat  lets  you  off  at  Derry,  if  you're 
for  the  ould  country,"  explained  her  interloc- 
utress, "  and  a  pound  an'  six  is  $6.50  in  the 
States  money,  miss.  But  she'd  need  a  bite  an' 
a  sup  on  the  way  for  her  an'  the  babe." 

The  girl  had  apparently  paid  no  attention  at 
all  to  thiscolloquy.  But  now  she  lifted  her  tear- 


'IT'S   ONLY  FOR  HER  I'M  CARIN' 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        57 

stained  face  to  Betty's  and  held  out  the  baby. 
"  It's  only  for  her  I'm  carin',"  she  said.  "  I 
had  ten  dollars  saved  over  my  passage  back 
an'  the  train  ticket,  an'  that  goes  a  long  way 
in  Ireland.  The  old  folks  are  poor,  too,  but  I 
thought  they'd  take  her  in  for  that,  and  what 
I  could  be  sendin'  them  later.  I  couldn't 
tend  her  an'  work,  too,  but  whatever  shall  I 
do  over  here  ?  There's  no  work  at  all  in  Ire- 
land." 

"  What  a  darling  baby  !  "  cried  Betty,  as  the 
blue  eyes  opened  and  the  little  red  face  crum- 
pled itself  into  a  tremendous  yawn.  "  Why, 
I  never  saw  such  big  blue  eyes  !  "  The  little 
mother  smiled  faintly  at  this  praise,  and  Betty 
wanted  to  add  that  big  blue  eyes  evidently 
ran  in  the  family.  Instead  she  said,  "  Please 
don't  feel  so  unhappy.  I'll  see  that  you  have 
the  money  for  the  ticket  to  your  friends,  and 

perhaps "  Betty  stopped,  not  wishing  to 

promise  anything  for  the  others,  though  she 
was  sure  that  if  Babbie  saw  the  baby's  eyes 
she  would  reduce  the  number  of  dresses  she 
meant  to  buy  in  Paris  to  three  without  a 
murmur. 

"  An'  she  ain't  the  worst  off,  ayther,  ma'am," 


58        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

put  in  Betty's  voluble  informant.  "  There's 
an  English  gyrul  that's  sick,  pore  dear,  in  her 
bunk,  wid  an  awful  rackin'  cough  and  a  face 
as  pale  as  death,  an'  it's  tin  cints  she  do  be 
havin'  to  take  her  home  to  her  mither  that's 
a  coster-woman  in  London  town,  an'  wants  to 
see  her  daughter  before  she  dies." 

"  But  why  did  she  start  if  she  didn't  have 
enough  money  ?  "  demanded  Betty. 

"  Wudn't  you,  dearie,  if  you  was  dyin'  and 
knew  it?" 

"  Ah,  here  you  are.  Are  you  ready  to  go 
back  ?  "  The  senator  had  pumped  his  audi- 
ence dry,  and  remembered  Betty.  "  Well,  how 
is  it  ?  Do  they  complain  of  the  service  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  they  went  back  to  the  upper  deck. 

"  The  service — oh,  I'm  so  sorry  !  I  hadn't 
gotten  around  to  ask  them,"  said  Betty  meekly, 
and  then  burst  out  with  the  stories  she  had 
heard. 

The  senator  listened  intently,  and  his  keen 
eyes  grew  soft,  as  he  fumbled  for  his  pocket- 
book.  "  That's  the  point,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  he  said  soberly.  "  After  all,  what  are 
two  weeks'  comfort  or  discomfort  to  people  as 
poor  as  most  of  those  ?  I  saw  a  miserable  fel- 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.        59 

low,  too, — sick  and  discouraged,  taking  his 
motherless  children  back  home  before  he  dies. 
But  your  girl  is  worse  off.  Give  her  this.  It 
will  help  a  little." 

Betty  gasped  at  the  size  of  the  bill,  but  the 
senator  murmured  something  about  wanting 
to  smoke  and  hurried  off,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  go  back  to  the  others.  She  was 
the  last  of  the  quartette  to  reach  the  rendez- 
vous. 

"Two  minutes  late,"  called  Madeline  as  she 
appeared. 

"  That's  lucky,"  laughed  Betty,  tucking  her 
rug  in,  "  because  I  couldn't  possibly  decide 
where  to  go  from  Glasgow — I  don't  know 
enough  about  the  geography  of  Scotland — 
and  my  story  is  perfectly  sure  to  take  the 
prize." 

"H'm!"  said  Babe  doubtfully.  "I  saw 
you.  You  needn't  be  puffed  up  because  you 
leaned  over  the  railing  and  talked  to  a  live 
senator.  I've  been  talking  to  a  live  actress — 
there's  a  whole  company  of  them  on  board, 
Madeline,  and  you've  never  discovered  them." 

"Which  is  she?"  asked  Babbie.  "The 
stunning  woman  with  the  blue  velvet  suit?" 


60        BETTY   WALES,  E.  A. 

"  No,  the  little  mouse-like  one  with  gray 
furs,  and  she's  played  with " 

"  Wait,"  commanded  Madeline.  "  You've 
told  enough  for  the  first  time  round.  The 
stunning  woman  in  blue  velvet,  if  you 
care  to  know,  is  the  maid  of  the  mouse-like 
actress.  I've  talked  to  her.  Now,  Babbie." 

"  Oh,  I'm  out  of  it,"  explained  Babbie. 
"  Marie  has  a  sore  throat,  and  mother  wanted 
to  be  read  aloud  to." 

"  Well,  the  senator  is  only  one  of  the  peo- 
ple I've  talked  to,"  put  in  Betty  eagerly. 
"I've  been  in  the  steerage " 

"  Oh,  you  lucky  girl,"  cried  Madeline.  "  I 
tried  to  go  yesterday  and  got  turned  down. 
How  did  you  get  past  the  guard  ?  Do  tell 
us  all  about  it." 

So  Betty  "  told,"  saving  the  senator's  bill 
for  a  climax.  At  the  end  of  the  story  Babbie 
declared  that  she  simply  must  see  the  blue- 
eyed  Irish  baby,  and  Babe  winked  back  the 
tears  over  the  lonely  English  girl.  While  they 
were  talking,  some  Harding  girls  of  an  older 
generation  came  up  and  made  Madeline's 
Dramatic  Club  pin  an  excuse  for  introducing 
themselves.  Of  course  they  heard  about 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.        61 

Betty's  visit  to  the  steerage,  and  they  were  so 
interested  that  Madeline  had  an  idea. 

"  All  the  passengers  would  like  to  help  those 
poor  people,  I'm  sure.  Couldn't  we  give  an 
entertainment  of  some  sort  ?  There's  the  cap- 
tain, Babe.  Go  ask  him  if  he's  willing." 

The  captain  assured  Babe  that  "  any  show 
she  wanted  went  on  his  boat,"  the  little  gray- 
gowned  actress,  who  had  refused  to  appear  at 
the  ship's  concert,  promised  that  she  and  her 
leading  man  would  act  a  farce,  the  senator 
volunteered  to  canvass  the  steerage  for  some- 
body to  dance  an  Irish  jig,  Babbie  designed 
some  dainty  souvenir  programs,  and  the  other 
crowd  of  Harding  girls  arranged  a  "  stunt 
number  "  that  proved  to  be  the  star  feature  of 
the  evening.  Betty  printed  the  tickets,  and 
the  senator  sold  them  all  at  twenty-five 
cents  "  or  over,"  with  astonishing  financial 
results. 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  said  as  he  passed  the 
money  over  to  Betty.  "  There  are  three 
hundred  first  class  passengers  on  this  boat,  but 
six  of  them  are  judges — they  pay  double — and 
five  are  colonels — it  takes  three  tickets  to  get 
in  a  colonel." 


62        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  And  how  many  to  get  in  a  senator?" 
laughed  Betty. 

"  Twenty,"  said  the  senator  solemnly,  tak- 
ing them  out  of  his  pocket. 

So  there  was  enough  money  to  get  the  Eng- 
lish girl  to  London,  and  the  Irish  girl  to 
County  Cork  and  then  back  to  the  States  to 
work  for  her  blue-eyed  baby  sister,  and  some- 
thing over  to  pay  the  baby's  board  with  the 
"  ould  folks,"  and  to  help  out  the  poor  man 
with  the  big  family  of  children. 

"  And  the  best  of  it  is,  it's  given  us  some- 
thing to  do,"  said  Babe  the  last  afternoon  on 
board.  "  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  been 
seasick  if  we'd  thought  of  this  sooner." 

"  Easy  to  say  that  when  land  is  in  sight," 
said  Madeline  loftily,  squinting  at  the  horizon 
line. 

And  sure  enough  land  was  in  sight  and 
presently  it  turned  out  to  be  the  loveliest, 
greenest  land  that  the  girls  had  ever  seen. 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  Babe  excitedly. 
"  An  island  or  a  country  ?  " 

None  of  the  girls  knew,  but  a  friendly  pas- 
senger explained  that  it  was  both  an  island 
and  a  country,  for  it  was  Ireland. 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        63 

"  Why,  of  course,"  cried  Babe.  "  That's  why 
it's  so  green.  Is  it  really  greener  than  other 
places,  or  does  it  only  look  greener  because 
we  haven't  seen  any  other  places  for  eight 
days  ?  " 

Madeline  and  Betty  thought  it  was  really 
greener,  while  the  B's  inclined  to  the  opinion 
that  it  couldn't  be — that  it  was  the  atmosphere, 
perhaps. 

"  It's  certainly  a  queer  atmosphere,"  said 
Babe,  as  they  hurried  up  on  deck  after  dinner, 
to  see  the  tender  full  of  passengers  off  for 
"  Derry."  "  It's  eight  o'clock  this  minute, 
and  the  sunset  hasn't  finished  up." 

"  See  that  lovely  white  farmhouse  up  on 
that  hill,"  said  Betty,  pointing  toward  land. 
"  Doesn't  it  look  as  if  there  were  fairies  in 
those  fields,  girls  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  fairies,"  said 
Babe,  "  but  I  love  the  way  the  white  foam 
breaks  on  the  green  moss.  Let's  go  to  Ireland." 

"  Why,  we  haven't  decided  " — chanted  four 
voices  together. 

"  Where  we'll  go  from  Glasgow,"  finished 
Babbie  alone.  "  Well,  it  doesn't  matter,  be- 
cause mother  will  have  to  rest  a  day  or  two 


64        BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

before  we  go  anywhere.  Just  think  1  The 
poor  thing  hasn't  been  up  on  deck  yet." 

"  And  while  she's  resting,"  put  in  Mad- 
eline, "  we  can  explore  Glasgow  and  then,  if 
she's  willing,  go  down  to  Ayr.  That's  a  nice 
little  day  trip." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Babe  reflectively. 
"  Ayr — Ayr — I  ought  to  know  about  it,  but  I 
don't." 

"  Robert  Burns'  country,"  explained  Mad- 
eline briefly.  "  Why,  that  tender  is  really 
starting.  Wave  your  handkerchiefs  to  the 
baby's  sister,  Betty.  She's  almost  dropping 
the  poor  infant  in  her  efforts  to  make  you  see 
her." 

"  I  looked  at  the  map  before  dinner,"  an- 
nounced Babe  proudly.  "  I  know  just  where 
we  are,  and  the  real  name  of  '  Derry  '  is  Lon- 
donderry." 

"  I  found  that  out  too,"  declared  Betty. 
"  Maps  are  quite  interesting  when  you're  on 
one,  aren't  they  ?  I  used  to  hate  geography 
in  school,  but  from  now  on  I  shall  adore  it, 
I'm  sure." 

"  I  must  go  and  help  Marie  pack,"  said 
Babbie  with  a  last  glance  at  the  green  hills, 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.        65 

that  were  turning  a  beautiful  misty  gray  in 
the  twilight. 

"  We've  got  to  pack  too." 

"  And  go  to  bed  early,  because  we've  got  to 
get  up  early." 

"  So  as  to  land  in  Europe,"  finished  Babe. 
"  Doesn't  that  sound  too — sweet — elegant — 
grand  for  anything.  Come  on  and  get  busy, 
girls." 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    DISILLUSIONMENT    MADE   GOOD 

THE  next  morning  the  rising  bell  rang  un- 
comfortably early,  and  everybody  dressed  and 
breakfasted  in  nervous  haste,  pursued  by  the 
fear  of  not  being  ready  to  get  off  the  boat  at 
the  critical  moment.  And  then  there  was 
nothing  to  do  for  an  hour  or  so  but  "just  wait 
and  wait  and  wait,"  as  Babe  complained  dole- 
fully. Babe  was  dreadfully  impatient  to 
"  land  in  Europe,"  and  found  it  simply  tan- 
talizing to  have  to  hang  over  the  railing  and 
look  at  the  shores  of  Scotland,  with  the  little 
gray  town  of  Greenock  hardly  a  stone's  throw 
off.  Betty,  on  the  other  hand,  was  willing  to 
wait  because  she  thought  Greenock  so  pretty, 
with  its  curving  bay,  edged  by  a  stone  prom- 
enade, and  its  gray  stone  houses,  all  very 
much  alike,  standing  in  a  neat  row  encircling 
the  shore. 

"  It's  a  summer  resort,"  she  announced, 
having  consulted  her  Baedeker,  which  she 

66 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        67 

had  brought  up  on  deck  to  see  just  where 
they  were  on  the  map  of  Scotland.  "  I  wish 
we  could  stay  there  for  awhile.  It  looks  so 
quiet  and  quaint." 

"  It  doesn't  look  very  exciting  to  me,"  ob- 
jected Babe.  "  The  idea  of  building  summer 
cottages  of  stone  !  " 

"  They  aren't  cottages,"  explained  Babbie, 
"  they're  villas.  Don't  you  know  how  people 
in  English  novels  always  go  and  take  lodg- 
ings in  a  villa  by  the  sea  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do  let's  do  that,"  cried  Betty  eagerly. 
"  It  sounds  so  perfectly  English." 

"  I've  been  looking  over  some  Scotch  ad- 
dresses that  Mary  Brooks  gave  me,"  said 
Madeline,  "and  I  think  we  ought  to  go  to 
Oban.  She  and  Marion  Lawrence  both  said 
it  was  the  most  fascinating  spot  they'd  ever 
seen.  It's  a  seaside  resort  too,  Betty,  and  the 
address  they  gave  me  is  villa  something  or 
other,  so  it  answers  all  your  requirements." 

"  Why,  that's  the  place  mother's  doctor 
spoke  about,"  put  in  Babbie.  "  I  told  him  I 
wanted  to  go  to  little  out-of-the-way  villages, 
and  he  mentioned  that  one.  How  do  you  get 
there,  Madeline?" 


68        BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

11  Why,  by  boat,  I  think  Mary  said.  Let  me 
take  your  Baedeker,  Betty." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  she  can  make  out  trains 
and  things,"  said  Babbie,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"  Mother  can't  and  I  can't,  and  it's  such  a 
bother  always  to  have  to  ask  the  hotel 
people." 

Presently  Madeline  announced  that  she 
knew  just  how  to  go  to  Oban  by  boat,  and 
how  to  come  back  by  train,  and  then  Marie 
appeared  with  a  message  from  Mrs.  Hildreth 
that  it  was  time  for  the  girls  to  come  down- 
stairs and  get  their  hand-baggage  together. 

"  But  we're  not  within  ten  miles  of  Glasgow 
yet,"  objected  Babe,  proud  of  her  newly-ac- 
quired knowledge  of  the  geography  of  the 
region. 

"  Oh,  we  go  there  from  Greenock  on  a 
boat-train,"  Babbie  told  her.  "And  here 
comes  a  tender  or  a  ferry,  or  whatever  they 
call  it,  to  take  us  ashore." 

So  there  was  only  time  to  say  good-bye  to 
the  funny  old  Scotch  stewardess,  who  had 
told  them  to  "  Come  awa' '  to  their  baths 
every  morning,  to  the  other  Harding  girls,  and 
to  the  senator,  who  gave  Betty  his  card  and 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.        69 

made  her  promise  to  let  him  know  when  she 
came  to  Washington ;  and  then  they  were 
chug-chugging  over  to  the  Greenock  station, 
where  Madeline  instructed  the  novices  in  the 
art  of  getting  one's  trunks  through  the  cus- 
toms, while  Babbie  established  her  mother 
comfortably  on  the  train.  Madeline  had 
quite  given  up  finding  her  trunk  and  was 
congratulating  herself  on  having  put  so  many 
things  into  her  "  carry-all,"  when  she  heard 
the  senator  protesting  volubly  that  his  name 
wasn't  Ayres  and  that  he  hadn't  brought  a 
trunk  anyway,  whereupon  she  pounced  joy- 
ously on  her  property  and  refused  to  let  it  out 
of  her  sight  again  until  it  had  been  put  aboard 
the  Glasgow  train. 

Betty  and  Babe  found  the  train  very  amus- 
ing. Instead  of  long  cars  with  rows  of  seats 
on  either  side  of  the  aisle,  there  were  funny 
little  compartments,  each  holding  eight  or  ten 
people,  half  of  whom  were  obliged  to  ride 
backward  whether  they  liked  it  or  not.  But 
as  this  train  wasn't  crowded,  Mrs.  Hildreth's 
party  had  a  compartment  all  to  themselves, 
and  Betty  and  Babe  were  free  to  exclaim  as 
much  as  they  liked  over  the  delightful  queer- 


70         BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

ness  of  European  travel.  Foxgloves  and 
chimney-pots  were  the  two  objects  of  greatest 
interest  en  route.  Babbie  discovered  the  fox- 
gloves growing  in  a  pretty  little  grove  close 
by  the  railroad  track  ;  the  chimney-pots  jostled 
one  another  on  the  roof  of  every  cottage  they 
passed,  and  as  they  came  into  Glasgow  made 
such  an  impression  on  Babe  that  she  could 
think  of  nothing  else  and  almost  fell  out  the 
window  in  her  efforts  to  count  the  most  im- 
posing clusters. 

"  It's  queer,"  she  said,  leaning  back  wearily 
as  the  train  swept  into  a  tunnel,  "  how  no- 
body ever  tells  you  about  the  things  you 
notice  most.  Now  I've  talked  to  quantities 
of  people  who've  traveled  in  Europe,  and  not 
one  of  them  ever  so  much  as  mentioned 
chimney-pots." 

"  Well,  now  you  can  make  yourself  famous 
for  your  originality  by  mentioning  them  to 
everybody,"  said  Babbie  consolingly.  "  Here 
we  are  in  Glasgow.  Who's  going  to  see  about 
the  trunks  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  me,"  volunteered  Betty.  "  Some- 
body will  have  to  show  me  how  the  first  time, 
but  I  want  to  learn." 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.        71 

So  Madeline  and  Betty  went  off  to  find  the 
trunks  and  have  them  sent  to  the  station 
hotel,  where  Mrs.  Hildreth  had  decided  to  stay 
while  they  were  in  Glasgow. 

"  It  was  too  comical  for  anything,"  Betty 
told  Babe  afterward.  "  They  just  dumped  all 
the  trunks  and  bags  in  a  heap  on  the  plat- 
form, and  each  person  picked  out  whatever 
ones  he  pleased,  and  said  they  were  his,  and 
got  a  porter  to  carry  them  away  for  him. 
The  English  people  must  be  very  honest. 
Imagine  doing  that  way  in  America !  " 

"  We've  been  '  booked '  for  rooms  at  the 
hotel,"  said  Babe,  laughing  over  the  queer 
word.  "  And  that's  luggage  that  you're  carry- 
ing,— not  baggage  any  more,  please  remember. 
So  come  along  and  have  lunch  and  then  we 
can  go  out  and  see  the  sights." 

Mrs.  Hildreth  was  quite  willing  that  the 
girls  should  explore  Glasgow  without  her, 
and  spend  the  next  day  in  Ayr,  if  they 
pleased. 

"  I  don't  need  to  worry  about  you,"  she  told 
them,  "  for  I'm  sure  you  are  all  too  sensible 
to  do  any  foolish  or  foolhardy  things.  On 
the  continent  you  may  have  to  be  a  little 


72        BETTT  WALES,   B.A. 

more  particular,  but  here  and  in  England  you 
can  do  about  as  you  like." 

"  I  wish  you  could  come  too,  Mrs.  Hildreth," 
said  Betty,  when  they  were  ready  to  start. 

Mrs.  Hildreth  smiled  at  her.  "So  do  I, 
my  dear.  Just  as  soon  as  I'm  a  little  rested, 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  go  with  you  whenever 
you'll  take  me.  I  quite  look  forward  to  see- 
ing Europe  in  such  good  company." 

"  Poor  little  mother  !  "  said  Babbie,  as  they 
went  off.  "  She  never  had  a  chance  to  do  as 
she  liked  when  she  was  a  girl.  She  always 
had  nurses  and  governesses  trailing  around 
after  her,  and  then  she  went  to  a  fashionable 
school  in  Boston,  where  you  take  walks  two 
and  two  and  never  stir  without  a  chaperon. 
After  that  she  had  to  '  come  out '  in  society, 
though  she  hated  it  as  much  as  Bob  does,  and 
wanted  to  study  art  in  Paris.  But  her  mother 
thought  that  was  all  nonsense  for  a  girl  who 
had  plenty  of  money.  So  when  I  wanted  to 
go  to  college  mother  let  me,  and  she  often 
says  she's  awfully  glad  that  my  best  friends 
are  girls  who  can  go  ahead  and  have  a  good 
time  anywhere — not  the  helpless  society 
kind." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        73 

"I  say,  where  are  we  aiming  for?"  Babe 
demanded  suddenly. 

"  For  the  Glasgow  Cathedral,"  answered 
Madeline  placidly.  "This  way,  please." 

"  This  way  please  !  Follow  the  man  from 
Cook's,"  chanted  Babbie  mockingly.  And 
after  that  Madeline  was  known  as  "  the  man 
from  Cook's,"  because  her  easy  fashion  of 
finding  her  way  around  each  place  they 
visited,  whether  or  not  she  had  been  there 
before,  rivaled  the  omniscience  of  the  great 
tourist  agency. 

So  under  Madeline's  capable  guidance  they 
visited  the  beautiful  old  cathedral  and  then 
took  an  electric  tram,  which  is  like  an  electric 
car  with  seats  on  the  roof  and  a  spiral  stair- 
way at  the  back  leading  up  to  them,  out  to 
the  park  and  the  art  gallery.  After  Babe 
had  looked  at  the  one  great  treasure  of  the 
gallery,  Whistler's  portrait  of  Thomas  Carlyle, 
she  announced  that  she  had  seen  enough  for 
one  day,  and  would  wait  for  the  others  out- 
side. 

"  Let's  all  say  '  enough,'  "  suggested  Babbie, 
"  and  go  for  a  tram-ride.  I  move  that  the 
man  from  Cook's  be  censured  for  telling  us 


74        BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

that  it  wasn't  far  enough  out  here  to  pay  us 
for  climbing  to  the  top-story  of  the  tram. 
Hereafter  it  is  going  to  be  a  rule  that  we  al- 
ways ride  on  top." 

"  I  should  say  it  was,"  Babe  seconded  her 
eagerly.  "  My  father  owns  a  trolley  line  in 
Rochester,  New  York,  and  I'm  going  to  write 
and  tell  him  about  this  second-story  idea. 
I'm  sure  people  would  flock  from  all  over  the 
country  to  ride  up  on  the  roof  of  the  cars. 
Then  he'd  make  piles  of  money  and  I  could  go 
abroad  every  summer,  the  way  Babbie  does." 

"  Let's  just  ride  back  to  town  on  top,"  sug- 
gested Betty,  "  and  then  go  and  have  tea  at 
the  address  Mary  Brooks  gave  us.  She  said 
it  was  the  nicest  tea-shop  they  went  to  any- 
where." 

This  suited  everybody,  and  they  had  all 
climbed  up  on  the  second  story  of  the  tram, 
and  were  settling  themselves  for  the  ride 
back,  when  Babbie  gave  an  exclamation  of 
delight.  "  Why,  that's  John  Morton  standing 
on  the  steps  of  the  art  gallery.  Oh,  do  let's 
get  off !  I  want  to  go  back  and  talk  to  him. 
Why,  I  hadn't  the  least  idea  he  was  in 
Europe ! " 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        75 

"  Oh,  don't  let's  get  down  again,"  wailed 
Betty,  who  had  stepped  on  her  skirt-braid 
in  climbing  up,  and  was  trying  to  repair 
damages  with  pins.  "  It's  such  dreadfully 
hard  work." 

"  We  can't,"  declared  Madeline  decisively. 
"  We've  paid  our  tuppences,  and  we  couldn't 
get  them  back." 

"  I  wish  I  could  remember  to  say  tuppence," 
sighed  Babe  enviously.  "  Who  is  John  Mor- 
ton, Babbie?  Are  you  sure  it's  he  on  the 
steps?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  so,"  said  Babbie  eagerly.  "  I 
wish  he'd  turn  around  again,  and  I  could 
be  sure.  He's  just  the  jolliest  fellow,  and  I 
haven't  seen  him  for  two  years.  Oh,  dear, 
we're  starting  !  "  as  the  tram  gave  a  jerk  and 
a  lurch,  and  was  off. 

"  Never  mind,  Babbie,"  teased  Babe.  "  Re- 
member your  dear  Jack  and  the  touching 
farewell  that  caused  us  all  so  much  anxiety. 
We  can't  be  bothered  with  another  of  your 
suitors  so  soon." 

"  Don't  apply  the  title  of  suitor  to  John, 
please,"  laughed  Babbie,  leaning  over  for  a 
last  look  at  the  figure  on  the  steps.  "  He's  as 


76        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

much  of  a  professed  woman-hater  as  you  are 
man-hater,  but  he  makes  an  exception  of  me 
because  I  like  to  tramp  and  ride  horseback. 
You'd  like  him,  Babe.  Madeline,  do  you 
know  where  to  get  off  for  this  tea  place  ?  " 

Madeline  didn't ;  and  as  the  conductor  didn't 
see  fit  to  come  up,  Babbie  had  to  climb  down, 
while  the  tram  was  going  at  full  speed,  to 
find  out. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  this  for  any- 
thing," said  Madeline,  when  they  were  settled 
at  one  of  the  tables  in  Miss  Jelliff's  Tea 
Rooms.  The  seats  were  carved  oak  settles, 
there  were  wonderful  brass  candlesticks  in 
niches  by  the  door,  and  on  the  tables  were 
bunches  of  pale  blue  irises,  to  match  the  blue 
china.  The  bread  was  in  what  Babe  called  a 
"  three-story  revolving  bread-case,"  the  toast 
in  a  quaint  little  English  toast-rack,  and  the 
jam,  pepper  and  mustard  in  fascinating  pots, 
while  the  cups,  though  all  blue,  were  of  dif- 
ferent shapes  and  patterns. 

"  Let  me  pour  the  tea,"  begged  Betty. 
"  Which  cup  do  you  each  choose  ?  " 

"  I'm  so  glad  we  came,"  said  Babe.  "  First 
maxim  for  travelers  :  When  you  have  had 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        77 

enough,  stop.  As  I  thought  of  that,  I  de- 
mand first  choice  of  cups." 

"  All  right,"  conceded  Madeline.  "  Second 
maxim  for  travelers  :  When  in  doubt,  drink 
afternoon  tea.  I  demand  second  choice  of 
cups." 

"  I  shall  get  third  choice,  anyway,  shan't 
I  ?  "  said  Babbie.  "  So  I  needn't  weary  my 
brains  thinking  of  maxims." 

So  Betty  poured  the  tea,  and  Madeline  told 
fortunes  for  all  the  party  in  the  grounds,  after 
which  the  smiling  waitress  appeared  and  asked 
them  how  much  bread  they  had  eaten. 

"  I  hated  to  own  up  to  five  pieces,"  sighed 
Babe,  "  not  because  I  begrudged  the  beggarly 
pence  they  cost,  but  because  I  am  ashamed  of 
my  appetite.  Girls,  there  are  more  rooms 
up-stairs." 

"  Let's  have  breakfast  here  to-morrow  be- 
fore we  go  to  Ayr,"  suggested  Betty.  "  Mrs. 
Hildreth  won't  be  up  early  enough  to  eat 
with  us  at  the  hotel,  so  we  might  just  as  well 
come  here." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Babbie.  "Does  the 
man  from  Cook's  know  when  trains  leave  for 
Ayr?" 


78        BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

He  didn't,  and  there  was  a  rush  to 
find  out  and  purchase  tickets  before  dinner- 
time. 

"  I'm  crazy  to  see  Ayr,"  said  Babe  the  next 
day.  "  I'm  very  fond  of  Burns's  poems,  and 
I  can  just  imagine  the  sleepy,  old-fashioned 
little  hamlet  he  was  born  in.  His  birthplace 
and  the  haunted  kirk  and  the  bridges  across 
the  Doon  and  all  the  other  Burns  relics  are 
out  in  the  country,  about  two  miles  from  the 
station.  Let's  buy  some  fruit  and  sweet  choc- 
olate and  eat  our  lunch  on  the  way.  It  will 
be  a  lovely  walk,  I'm  sure." 

"  Along  English  lanes,  with  tall  hedge- 
rows on  each  side,"  added  Babbie  dreamily. 
"  What  a  pity  it's  too  late  for  primroses." 

So  great  was  their  disappointment,  when 
the  train  stopped  at  Ayr,  to  find  themselves 
in  a  busy,  prosperous,  specklessly  clean  town, 
with  a  paved  square  just  back  of  the  station, 
where  one  was  expected  to  sit  and  wait  for  the 
tram  that  ran  out  to  the  birthplace  of  Robert 
Burns  once  in  ten  minutes. 

"  There's  nothing  to  do  but  take  their  old 
tram,  I  suppose,"  sighed  Babe  disconsolately. 
"  It's  no  fun  walking  along  a  car-track. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.         79 

Fancy  this  smug,  bustling  factory-town  being 
Ayr  !  Is  all  Europe  fixed  up  like  this,  Made- 
line?" 

Madeline  assured  her  that  it  wasn't,  and 
Babbie  declared  that  if  Oban  was  horrid  and 
new  they  would  go  straight  to  London  by  the 
first  train.  "  For  there's  nothing  horrid  and 
new  about  London,"  she  declared. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  house  where 
Burns  was  born,  Babe  objected  again  because 
the  thatched  roof  and  the  whitewashed  walls 
looked  so  new ;  but  the  churchyard  was 
beautiful  and  the  "  Auld  Brig  "  picturesque, 
and  they  were  just  beginning  to  enjoy  them- 
selves, when  two  heavily-loaded  trams  came 
up,  and  soon  the  place  was  swarming  with 
talkative  Americans,  most  of  them  from  the 
same  boat  that  the  girls  had  crossed  on. 

"  It's  a  party,"  explained  Babe,  when  she 
had  escaped  from  the  embraces  of  a  pretty 
young  girl  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her  on 
shipboard.  "  That  fat  man  with  spectacles 
is  the  conductor.  See  them  all  gather  around 
him  while  he  reads  selections  from  Tarn 
O'Shanter.  Goodness !  Wouldn't  I  hate  to 
do  Europe  with  a  bunch  like  that !  " 


8o        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  Let's  go  back,"  said  Babbie  sadly. 
"  Haven't  we  seen  everything?  " 

"  And  if  we  hurry  we  may  get  there  in 
time  for  tea  at  Miss  Jelliff's,"  added  Betty. 
"  There's  a  room  we  haven't  been  in  yet,  yo.u 
know." 

Babbie  was  very  quiet  all  the  way  back. 
As  they  took  their  places  around  the  tea-table 
she  announced  proudly,  "  Third  maxim  for 
tourists :  Avoid  birthplaces.  Now  I  can  have 
first  choice  of  cups." 

"  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  have  a 
maxim  about  avoiding  conducted  parties  ?  " 
asked  Babe,  helping  herself  to  bread. 

"  No,"  said  Madeline  decisively,  "  I  don't. 
The  kind  of  tourists  that  our  maxims  are  in- 
tended for  would  know  better  than  that  with- 
out being  told.  Girls,  do  you  want  to  know 
what  I'm  going  to  do  next  year?  " 

"  Of  course,"  chorused  her  three  friends 
eagerly. 

"  Start  a  fascinating  tea-room  like  this  in 
either  Harding  or  New  York." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  going  to  live  in 
Sorrento  with  your  family." 

"  Don't  all  Bohemians  have  to  be  artists  ?  " 


BETTT  WALES,  B.  A.        81 

"  Then  will  you  come  back  to  America  when 
we  do?" 

Madeline  laughed  at  the  avalanche  of  ques- 
tions. "  All  good  Bohemians  are  artists,"  she 
explained,  "  but  not  necessarily  in  paint. 
You  can  be  an  artist  in  tea-rooms,  too,  you 
know.  I  suppose  I  shall  try  to  write  more  or 
less,  since  my  family  seem  to  expect  it  of  me, 
but  until  I've  made  my  everlasting  reputation 
as  a  short-story  writer  I  should  like  to  have  a 
steady  source  of  income,  which  is  a  thing  that 
most  Bohemians  don't  have.  Besides,  think 
what  fun  it  would  be  buying  the  china." 

"  It  would  be  great,"  declared  Babbie  sol- 
emnly. "  Don't  you  want  a  partner,  Made- 
line?" 

Madeline  laughed.  "  Wait  until  I've  broken 
the  news  to  my  family,  Babbie.  As  I  only 
thought  of  it  this  afternoon,  my  ideas  of  what 
I  want — except  this  darling  china — are  some- 
what vague." 

"Well,  anyhow,"  persisted  Babbie,  "let's 
have  tea-rooms  for  one  of  the  dominant  in- 
terests of  our  trip.  Don't  you  remember  in 
one  of  Roberta's  books  it  says  that  every  trav- 
eler should  have  a  dominant  interest  in  order 


82        BETTY  WALES,  E.  A. 

to  get  the  most  profit  and  pleasure  out  of  his 
journey." 

"Well,  what  can  the  rest  of  us  have?" 
asked  Betty,  turning  her  teacup  upside  down 
and  twirling  it  around  three  times,  ready  for 
Madeline  to  tell  her  fortune  in  the  mystic 
leaves. 

"  Oh,  we'll  get  them  as  we  go  along,  I  guess," 
said  Babbie  easily.  "  I  already  know  what 
mine  won't  be.  It  won't  be  birthplaces." 

Mrs.  Hildreth  was  much  amused  at  the 
story  of  the  day's  disillusionments. 

"  It's  very  hard  nowadays  to  get  away  from 
other  American  tourists,"  she  warned  the  girls. 
"  You  mustn't  expect  to  have  exclusive  pos- 
session of  all  these  beautiful  old  pilgrimage 
places." 

Babbie  groaned.  "  Suppose  that  awful  con- 
ducted party  should  go  up  to  Oban  on  the 
boat  with  us." 

"  If  they  should  dare  to  do  such  a  thing, 
we'll  wait  over  a  day,"  Babe  threatened  sav- 
agely. 

But  no  such  drastic  measures  proved  neces- 
sary. 

"  In  spite  of  what  your  mother  said,  I  verily 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.        83 

believe  we're  the  only  Americans  on  board," 
said  Babe  gleefully,  as  they  swung  out  of 
Greenock  harbor  next  morning.  It  was  a 
glorious  day,  with  fleecy  white  clouds  scud- 
ding across  a  blue  sky  and  the  sun  turning 
the  sea  to  a  sheet  of  sparkling  silver.  As  they 
got  further  out  into  the  Firth  of  Clyde  the 
wind  blew  the  clouds  up  over  the  sun  and 
wrapped  the  craggy  islands  in  purple  mists. 
The  scenery  grew  wilder  and  more  magnifi- 
cent every  moment,  and  the  girls  more  enthu- 
siastic. Every  time  the  boat  stopped  at  a 
pretty  watering-place  or  a  lonely  fishing  vil- 
lage, Betty  wished  they  could  get  off.  "  For 
I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  any  nicer  than  this 
around  Oban,"  she  said,  "  and  what  if  it  should 
be  like  Ayr?" 

But  all  day  the  purple  headlands  grew 
bolder  and  more  beautiful,  and  when  at  last 
Oban  came  into  view  it  proved  to  be  the 
crowning  glory  of  the  day's  trip.  The  cres- 
cent-shaped bay  had  a  great  rock  to  guard  it 
on  one  side  and  an  ivy-covered  ruin  on  the 
other.  Between  them  the  little  town  clung  to 
the  hills  above  the  sea,  its  villas  almost  hidden 
among  the  trees,  and  a  huge  stone  amphi- 


84         BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

theatre,  which  the  girls  couldn't  even  guess 
the  meaning  of,  crowning  the  highest  slope. 

Madeline  had  written  ahead  to  "  Daisybank 
Villa,"  so  there  was  a  boy  to  meet  them  at  the 
landing,  take  charge  of  their  bags,  and  show 
them  the  way  up  a  steep,  winding  road,  to  the 
house — such  a  pretty  house,  with  roses  climb- 
ing around  the  door  and  real  Scotch  daisies 
starring  the  turf  of  the  tiny  lawn. 

"  Oh,  see  the  '  daisies  pied,'  "  cried  Babe  in 
great  excitement.  "  There's  more  of  Robert 
Burns  in  this  yard  than  there  was  in  the  whole 
of  that  horrid  old  Ayr.  Do  let's  have  dinner 
right  off,  so  we  can  go  and  explore." 

But  dinner  was  at  noon  in  "  Daisybank 
Villa,"  so  the  pretty  young  housekeeper  ex- 
plained apologetically.  What  they  had  now 
was  "  tea," — which  meant  bread  and  butter, 
even  nicer,  if  possible,  than  Miss  Jelliff's ;  hot 
scones  and  bannocks — Babe  demanded  the 
names  of  the  blushing  little  waitress — the 
nicest  orange  marmalade,  fresh  strawberries 
smothered  in  thick  cream,  and  tea  with  a 
"  cozy  "  to  keep  the  pot  warm. 

But  the  real  feature  of  the  occasion  was  the 
bell  which  one  rang  by  getting  up  from  the 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.         85 

table  and  pulling  a  heavy  red  tassel  that  hung 
behind  a  curtain  by  the  door. 

"  Exactly  as  they  always  do  on  the  stage," 
said  Babe  in  ecstasy,  manfully  resisting  the 
temptation  to  summon  the  waitress  again  just 
for  the  fun  of  pulling  the  bell. 

"  And  we're  living  in  lodgings  in  a  villa  by 
the  sea,"  added  Betty.  "  I  feel  like  the  heroine 
of  a  Jane  Austen  novel,  and  I'm  going  to 
write  to  Nan  this  very  evening.  She'll  be  so 
pleased  to  think  that  I've  at  last  had  a  literary 
sensation." 

After  tea  Babe  and  Madeline  went  out  to 
explore  Oban,  while  Babbie  helped  Marie  to 
make  Mrs.  Hildreth's  room  comfortable,  and 
Betty  made  a  pretext  of  the  letter  to  Nan  to 
wait  for  her. 

When  the  four  girls  met  half  an  hour  later 
on  the  promenade  Madeline  and  Babe  were 
laughing  over  a  little  adventure  they  had  had. 

"  We  were  walking  along  that  road  off 
there,"  Babe  explained,  "  hurrying  pretty  fast, 
because  we  wanted  to  go  into  that  lovely  ivy- 
covered  castle  and  be  back  here  in  time  to 
meet  you.  And  as  we  passed  two  awfully 
nice-looking  youths,  one  said  something  to  the 


86        BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

other  in  Dutch,  and  Madeline,  having  spent  a 
summer  in  Holland,  understood  it." 

"  And  translated  it  into  the  American  idiom 
for  Babe's  benefit,"  Madeline  took  her  up,  "  as 
'  Get  on  to  their  stride/ — never  thinking,  of 
course,  that  the  men  also  understood  English. 
But  they  did,  because  the  one  who  had  said 
that  in  Dutch  had  the  audacity  to  smile  and 
remark  to  his  friend  in  Italian  that  we  were 
the  first  Americans  he'd  ever  met  who  under- 
stood Dutch." 

"  And  we  couldn't  get  into  the  ruin,"  Babe 
went  on,  "  because  the  gate  was  locked,  so  we 
came  back  and  sat  down  here  by  the  water  to 
watch  the  sunset.  And  by  and  by  they 
came  back  too,  and  that  time  they  were  talk- 
ing English — not  for  our  benefit  either,  be- 
cause they  didn't  see  us." 

"Well,  were  they  Americans  after  all?" 
asked  Babbie. 

"  Oh,  no,"  Madeline  explained,  "  they  were 
Dutch,  I  suppose.  The  Dutch  are  great 
linguists,  you  know." 

"  They  looked  awfully  jolly,"  said  Babe  re- 
gretfully, "  especially  the  one  who  admired  our 
stride.  If  he'd  been  an  American  he'd  have 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        87 

stopped  and  apologized  for  his  rude  remark, 
and  helped  us  climb  the  wall  into  the  castle 
gardens.  It's  awfully  high  and  it  has  broken 
glass  on  top  just  like  a  story-book,  and  you 
can  go  in  only  on  Tuesdays  and  Fridays." 

"  How  disgusting  for  a  castle  to  have  at- 
home  days  !  "  said  Babbie.  "  I  love  ruins,  and 
we  passed  so  many  nice  ones  on  the  way  up. 
Isn't  there  any  other  near  Oban,  man  from 
Cook's?" 

"  I'll  find  out  in  the  morning,"  Madeline 
promised.  "  At  present  I  feel  more  like  bed. 
It's  half-past  nine,  if  it  is  broad  daylight." 


CHAPTER  V 

A    RUIN    AND    A    REUNION 

THE  next  morning  at  breakfast  Madeline 
announced  that  she  had  found  a  ruined  castle 
for  Babbie. 

"  The  one  with  the  ivy  on  it  is  Dunollie," 
she  explained.  "  It  belonged  to  the  giant 
Fingal  once  upon  a  time — he's  the  giant  that 
had  the  cave  out  on  one  of  those  lovely  purple 
islands,  you  know.  He  must  have  either 
lived  in  this  castle,  or  visited  here  often,  be- 
cause there  is  a  stone  in  the  yard  that  he  used 
to  tie  his  dog  to." 

"  And  who  used  to  live  in  my  castle?  "  in- 
quired Babbie,  making  a  wry  face  as  she  tasted 
the  queer  English  coffee.  "  I  don't  wonder 
the  English  drink  tea  for  breakfast  rather 
than  this  horrible  stuff.  I'm  going  to  have 
milk.  Whose  turn  is  it  to  ring  the  bell? 
Now,  Madeline,"  when  Betty  had  proudly 

88 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        89 

pulled  the  bell-cord,  and  taken  her  seat  again, 
"  tell  us  all  about  my  castle." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said 
Madeline,  "  except  that  it  is  named  Dunstaff- 
nage,  and  it's  somewhere  on  the  shore,  a  few 
miles  north  of  Oban.  I  presume  our  land- 
lady can  tell  us  just  how  to  get  to  it." 

" You're  sure  it's  not  on  any  tram-line?" 
inquired  Babbie  anxiously.  "  I  don't  want 
the  kind  of  ruin  that's  on  a  tram-line,  you 
know." 

"  No,  it's  not  that  kind,"  Madeline  assured 
her.  "  You  have  to  drive  or  walk  to  get 
there." 

"  We'll  walk,  of  course,"  said  Babe,  and 
everybody  agreed,  though  their  landlady  as- 
sured them  it  was  a  "  right  smart  distance 


awaV 


"  But  ye'll  be  all  the  hungrier  for  your  din- 
ner," she  added  comfortably.  "  What  will  ye 
have  for  yer  dinner  ?  " 

"  Why,  anything  you  like  to  give  us,"  said 
Betty,  to  whom  she  had  addressed  her  remark. 

"  Verra  well.  Lamb,  perhaps,  and  straw- 
berry tartlets  ?  " 

"  Strawberry  tartlets  for  mine,"  cried  Babe, 


9o        BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

throwing  her  tam-o'-shanter  in  the  air.  "  We'll 
be  back  in  time  for  strawberry  tartlets,  no 
matter  how  good  a  time  we're  having." 

So  they  started  briskly  off  to  find  the 
castle, — a  merry  party  in  tam-o'-shanters  and 
sweaters, — for  the  wind  fairly  whistled  across 
the  moors,  and  it  seemed  more  like  November 
than  July,  Betty  said. 

"  That's  because  Scotland  is  so  far  north," 
said  Babe  wisely.  "  The  long  twilights  come 
from  that  too.  It's  almost  like  the  land  of  the 
midnight  sun." 

"Well,  it's  certainly  awfully  cold,"  said 
Babbie.  "  Let's  race." 

So  they  raced  down  the  hard  white  road  till 
they  had  reached  the  graveyard  that  their 
landlady  had  named  to  them  as  a  landmark. 

"  This  must  be  the  road  she  told  us  to  take 
across  the  fields,"  said  Babe,  pointing  to  a 
grassy  track  that  turned  off  the  highroad  to- 
ward the  sea. 

"  I  should  call  that  a  path,  not  a  road," 
Madeline  objected. 

"  I'll  go  ahead  and  see  if  there's  any  other 
turning,"  suggested  Betty. 

There  didn't  seem  to  be  any,  so  they  took 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.        91 

the  grassy  path — or  tried  to,  A  little  way 
down  it  were  some  bars,  and  when  they  went 
through  them  into  the  pasture  an  old  black 
cow  rushed  out  from  a  clump  of  bushes  and 
ran  at  them  fiercely  with  her  head  down. 

Betty  and  Babbie  screamed  in  terror  and 
scrambled  back  to  the  safe  side  of  the  fence ; 
Madeline  followed  them  more  deliberately, 
and  even  Babe,  the  bold  and  fearless  explorer 
of  cow-pastures,  finally  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  fence,  where  she  sat  astride  the  highest 
board  to  await  developments.  The  cow 
watched  the  retreat  with  interest  and  after  a 
few  minutes  wandered  idly  off  to  the  grassy 
spot  where  the  rest  of  the  herd  were  grazing. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Babe  encouragingly,  when 
the  cow's  back  was  safely  turned.  "  She  won't 
come  at  us  again,  I'm  sure.  If  she  does,  I'll 
protect  you.  Hurry  up,  Madeline.  We've  got 
to  find  the  castle  and  get  back  in  time  for  the 
strawberry  tartlets." 

So  first  Babe  climbed  down  into  the  pas- 
ture, then  Madeline  crawled  through  the  bars, 
with  Babe  after  her  and  Betty  bringing  up 
the  rear.  But  no  sooner  had  Betty  pushed 
safely  through  than  the  old  black  cow  turned 


92        BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

her  head,  discovered  what  had  happened,  and 
charged  as  fiercely  as  before. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  sighed  Babe,  from  her  perch 
on  the  fence,  "  she  wouldn't  really  hurt  us, 
I'm  sure  of  it.  She's  just  curious  about  us, 
Cows  are  awfully  curious  animals." 

"  She  shows  her  curiosity  in  a  very  peculiar 
way,"  declared  Babbie.  "  She  doesn't  want 
us  in  her  pasture — that's  very  evident." 

"  Being  a  loyal  Scotch  cow,  she  objects  to 
an  American  invasion,"  laughed  Madeline. 
"  See  her  eating  away  as  calmly  as  if  we 
didn't  exist.  Let's  be  awfully  quiet  getting 
through  this  time  and  perhaps  we  can  cut 
across  a  corner  of  the  pasture  before  she  dis- 
covers us." 

But  they  couldn't.  This  time  Betty  was 
the  first  one  to  follow  the  intrepid  Babe  into 
the  enemy's  country,  and  as  soon  as  her  head 
appeared  between  the  bars  the  old  cow  stopped 
eating  and  came  toward  her.  Then  Babe  had 
an  idea. 

"  It's  your  red  cap,  Betty,"  she  cried.  "  Hide 
it  and  see  what  happens." 

In  nervous  haste  Betty  pulled  out  her  hat- 
pins and  tucked  the  scarlet  tam-o'-shanter  out 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.        93 

of  sight  under  her  white  sweater.  Where- 
upon the  black  cow  lowed  amiably  and 
turned  her  head  to  nip  a  tempting  tuft  of 
clover. 

"  Well,  so  that  was  what  she  wanted,"  said 
Babbie  indignantly.  "  I  supposed  it  was  all 
a  myth  about  cows  chasing  red,  didn't  you, 
Babe?" 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  Babe  carelessly, 
striding  through  the  bushes.  "  Anyhow,  I'm 
mighty  glad  we're  off.  We  s,hall  never  find 
your  castle  at  this  rate." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Betty  reflectively, 
"  this  is  a  real  story-book  country  that  we're 
in.  Even  the  cows  act  as  they  do  in  story- 
books." 

"  Well,  the  roads  don't,"  objected  Madeline. 
"  This  one  has  come  to  a  plain,  unvarnished 
end,  as  roads  and  other  things  have  a  way  of 
doing  in  real  life.  Why,  it's  brought  us  right 
down  to  the  sea  !  " 

Sure  enough,  they  had  come  out  on  a  strip 
of  sandy  beach,  with  a  little  cluster  of  bath 
houses  at  one  end.  A  girl  was  standing  in 
the  door  of  one  of  them. 

"  Go   ask   her  the  way,   Madeline,"   com- 


94        BETTT    WALES,  B.A. 

manded  Babbie.  "  You're  the  only  one  that 
can  remember  the  name  of  my  castle." 

So  Madeline  went,  and  returned  with  the 
news  that  they  had  taken  the  wrong  turn  at 
the  cemetery  and  must  go  back  through  the 
pasture  to  the  road  on  the  hill. 

"  Never,"  declared  Babe  firmly.  "  That  cow 
would  have  a  chance  to  say,  '  I  told  you  so.' 
She  was  evidently  trying  to  tell  us  that  we 
were  on  the  wrong  track.  Didn't  you  say  the 
castle  was  near  the  water  ?  If  so,  why  can't 
we  go  to  it  along  the  shore  ?  It's  a  lot  pret- 
tier down  here." 

So  Madeline  interviewed  the  bath-house 
girl  again. 

"  She  was  very  discouraging  about  it," 
she  announced.  "  She  said  it  was  awfully 
rough,  with  nothing  but  sheep-trails  to 
walk  on,  but  we  can  try  it  if  you  all  want 
to." 

It  was  great  fun  walking  on  the  sheep-trails 
close  by  the  edge  of  the  sea,  with  the  gorse 
and  heather  that  they  had  always  read  about 
under  their  very  feet,  and  the  expectation  of 
seeing  the  castle  as  they  rounded  each  head- 
land. But  presently  they  came  to  a  fence — a 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.        95 

high,  close-meshed  wire  fence  with  a  strand 
of  barbed  wire  on  top. 

"  Looks  as  if  it  was  meant  to  keep  people 
out,  now  doesn't  it?  "  said  Babe  cheerfully. 

"  Come  and  help  me  over,"  called  Babbie, 
trying  to  dig  her  toes  into  the  wire  meshes. 

"  Isn't  trespassing  a  dreadful  crime  over 
here  ?  "  asked  Betty  anxiously,  when  they  had 
all  succeeded  in  getting  over. 

"Dreadful,"  answered  Madeline  solemnly, 
"  but  the  cliffs  are  too  steep  to  climb,  and  we 
can't  go  all  the  way  back  to  the  beach.  Be- 
sides, we  haven't  any  guns.  Trespassers  are 
always  supposed  to  be  looking  for  game,  I 
think." 

Part  of  the  way  the  sheep-trail  led  so  near 
to  the  water's  edge  that  it  made  Babbie  dizzy, 
and  once  they  had  to  cross  a  rickety  little 
wooden  bridge  over  a  deep  ravine  and  Betty 
got  over  only  by  bravely  shutting  her  eyes 
and  trying  to  believe  Babe's  blithe  assertion 
that  a  good  fat  sheep,  like  those  they  saw  on 
the  hillsides,  must  weigh  almost  as  much  as 
a  smallish  girl.  But  the  worst  of  it  was,  they 
couldn't  find  the  castle. 

"  Lost :    one  perfectly  good  ruin,  well  off 


96        BETTY   WALES,  E.A. 

tram-lines,"  chanted  Babbie  wearily.  "  The 
cliffs  aren't  steep  here.  Let's  climb  up  to  the 
highest  point  and  see  if  we  can't  find  a  farm- 
house where  we  can  ask  our  way." 

But  at  the  same  moment  that  they  dis- 
covered the  farmhouse  they  saw  the  castle — or 
rather  a  thickly  wooded  point  where  Babe 
was  sure  it  was  hidden,  so  they  pushed 
straight  on  without  stopping  to  make  in- 
quiries. A  low  stone  wall  separated  the 
wood  from  the  moorland,  and  Babe  was  just 
stepping  over  it,  when  she  stopped  and  gave 
a  funny  little  exclamation. 

"  Our  Dutchmen,"  she  said  to  Madeline. 
"  They  must  be  the  wardens  of  the  castle. 
Anyhow  they're  camping  in  the  wood." 

"  Can't  we  go  on  ?  "  inquired  Babbie  anx- 
iously. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Madeline  with,  decision. 
"  Baedeker  would  have  told  us  if  it  hadn't 
been  open  to  tourists.  Come  on,  Babbie." 

The  four  had  climbed  the  wall  and  were 
walking  demurely  through  the  wood,  politely 
keeping  as  far  as  possible  from  the  tent,  when 
Babbie  happened  to  catch  sight  of  Babe's  and 
Madeline's  Dutchmen,  who  had  been  lying 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.        97 

comfortably  on  the  ground  in  front  of  their 
tent,  and  now  were  sitting  up,  apparently 
quite  absorbed  in  the  books  they  were 
reading. 

"  Dutchmen  indeed  !  "  said  Babbie  coolly. 
"  Why,  it's  John  Morton.  Oh,  Jackie  Mor- 
ton !  "  she  raised  her  voice.  "  What  are  you 
doing  camping  out  in  the  enchanted  wood  of 
my  castle  ?  " 

At  this  one  of  the  campers  dropped  his 
book,  stared  in  the  direction  from  which 
Babbie's  voice  had  come,  and  jumping  up 
came  quickly  toward  her. 

"  Well,  this  is  funny,"  he  declared,  wring- 
ing her  hand,  "  because  I  was  just  thinking 
about  the  jolly  summer  we  had  up  at  Sunset 
Lake  and  wishing  the  same  old  crowd  was 
here  to  tramp  over  the  moors  and  picnic  and 
sail  and  have  bully  times  together." 

Babbie  laughed  and  introduced  him  to 
Babe,  Betty,  and  Madeline,  and  he,  in  his 
turn,  called  to  his  companion  to  come  and 
meet  everybody. 

"It's  my  tutor — Max  D wight,"  he  explained 
hastily  in  an  aside  to  Babbie.  "He's  just  out 
of  college  himself,  and  he's  a  mighty  good 


98        BETTT  WALES,   E.  A  . 

sort,  if  he  does  try  to  keep  me  everlastingly 
plugging.  I  say,  Babbie,  are  you  through 
school  yet?" 

"Through  college,"  Babbie  corrected  him 
with  dignity.  "  We're  all  Harding  19— 's." 

"  Gee  !  "  John's  face  expressed  deep  concern. 
"  I'm  scared.  Girls  frighten  me  to  death  any- 
how, and  four  B.  A.'s  !  Let's  stroll  off  some- 
where by  ourselves  and  talk." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  laughed  Babbie.  "  College 
girls  aren't  blue-stockings  nowadays.  Why 
aren't  you  a  B.  A.  yourself,  John  ?  You  were 
going  to  be  a  junior  the  year  after  that  sum- 
mer in  the  mountains." 

John  nodded.  "  I  got  flunked  out  of  my 
class,"  he  explained  carelessly.  "  I  suppose 
girls  never  get  into  that  fix,  but  plenty  of 
fellows  do, — bright  ones  at  that." 

"  Why,  John  Morton  !  "  Babbie's  tone  was 
very  scornful.  "  I  didn't  think  you  were  that 
kind.  Oh,  yes,  some  Harding  girls  get 
flunked  out,  but  none  of  our  crowd  would. 
We've  got  too  much  pride." 

"That's  all  very  well  to  say,"  John  re- 
turned sulkily.  "You  went  to  college  be- 
cause you  wanted  to,  I  suppose.  I  went 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.        99 

because  my  father  wanted  to  and  couldn't,  so 
he  made  me.  I  got  as  much  fun  out  of  it  as 
I  could,  and  did  as  little  work,  and  I  don't 
care  what  you  think  about  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  said  Babbie  coolly. 
"  You  care  a  lot."  Then  she  smiled  and  held 
out  her  hand.  "  Don't  let's  quarrel  this 
morning.  If  you  look  so  glum  the  girls 
will  think  all  I've  said  about  your  being  such 
a  jolly  lot  is  a  fairy-tale.  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  you  in  Glasgow,  you  know,  and  I  wanted 
to  climb  down  from  the  top  of  a  two-story 
tram  to  rush  back  and  speak  to  you.  But 
the  tram  started  just  then  and  I  couldn't." 

John  laughed.  "  Wanting  to  climb  down 
from  the  top  of  a  tram  to  see  a  fellow  is  cer- 
tainly a  proof  of  true  friendship.  We'll  have 
our  quarrel  out  some  other  day." 

"  All  right,"  Babbie  agreed,  leading  the  way 
back  to  the  others.  "  But  you'd  better  settle 
your  score  with  Babe  and  Madeline  right 
away." 

"  Settle  with  Babe  and  Madeline,"  repeated 
John.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"You're  really  even,"  Babbie  pursued,  not 
wanting  to  embarrass  John  immediately  after 


ioo      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

their  reconciliation,  "  because  if  you  com- 
mented on  their  stride,  they  came  home  and 
told  Betty  and  me  about  meeting  some  Dutch- 
men." 

"  Oh,  I  say  !  "  John's  face  lighted  and  then 
he  blushed,  as  he  recognized  Babe  and  Mad- 
eline. "  You  were  the  ones  we  met  on  the 
parade.  I'm  very  sorry.  So  few  people  know 
Dutch,  and  you  were  sprinting,  you  know." 

The  girls  declared  that  he  was  quite  excu- 
sable, but  Babbie  warned  him  that  he  wouldn't 
be  safe  in  using  even  Bengali  when  Madeline 
was  around. 

"  And  I  shall  have  to  be  careful  of  you," 
said  Madeline.  "  Where  did  you  learn  so 
many  languages,  Mr.  Morton?  " 

"  Oh,  dad's  in  an  importing  business  with 
branches  all  over  the  world,  and  his  agents 
sometimes  come  to  New  York.  I  like  to  go 
down  to  the  warehouses  and  talk  to  them,  and 
I  can  manage  to  say  a  little  in  ten  different 
languages.  It's  positively  my  only  accom- 
plishment," added  John  modestly. 

"  And  now  please  show  us  over  my  castle," 
Babbie  demanded. 

"  May  I  ask  by  what  right  you  claim  the 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.       101 

ownership  of  Dunstaffnage? "  asked  Mr. 
Dwight  laughingly. 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  a  ruin,"  explained  Babbie, 
"  and  Madeline — Miss  Ayres — picked  this  one 
out  for  me.  But  I  shan't  accept  it  unless  it's 
a  perfectly  lovely  one." 

"  It  is,  though,"  John  assured  her.  "  As  far 
as  I  know,  it  can't  be  beaten  anywhere  in 
Europe.  How  did  you  girls  happen  to  come 
in  by  the  back  way  ?  " 

"  We  were  glad  enough  to  get  here  by  any 
way,"  laughed  Babe.  "  Is  this  the  back  en- 
trance, and  are  you  the  wardens  of  it  ?  " 

"  No,  but  we're  the  proud  possessors  of  a 
permit  from  the  owner  to  camp  on  his  prem- 
ises," said  John.  "  We  got  tired  of  the  Oban 
hotels,  and  liked  this  beech-wood  and  the 
castle  so  much  that  we  wanted  to  board  near 
by.  The  people  at  the  farm  down  the  road 
that  you  should  have  come  by  were  willing  to 
feed  us,  but  hadn't  any  extra  rooms,  so  I  sug- 
gested a  tent — I  camped  all  last  summer  up 
in  Canada — and  here  we  are.  If  you're  going 
to  be  lady  of  the  castle,  Babbie,  you'll  have  to 
let  us  be  its  lords." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Babbie,  leading  the  way 


102      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

along  a  mossy  path  between  the  tall  beeches. 
Presently  she  gave  an  exclamation  of  dismay. 
"  Oh,  but  it's  such  a  very  small  castle !  I 
thought  it  would  be  big  and  have  a  rampart 
and  a  moat." 

'•'That's  only  the  chapel,  silly,"  John  ex- 
plained. "  The  castle  is  farther  on." 

"  A  chapel  !  Oh,  what  a  darling  one !  " 
cried  Betty.  "  I  want  the  chapel  for  mine, 
Babbie.  You  can  have  the  castle." 

"  I  approve  your  taste,  Miss  Wales,"  said 
Mr.  Dwight.  "  I  think  that  little  ivy-covered 
ruin,  hidden  among  the  trees,  is  lovelier  than 
any  castle.  Come  inside  and  see  the  stones." 

"  Whose  graves  are  they  ?  "  asked  Betty, 
following  Mr.  Dwight  across  the  broken 
threshold. 

"They're  not  legibly  marked,  except  this 
one.  Some  of  the  ancient  owners  of  the  castle, 
I  suppose." 

"  Who  did  own  it  ?  "  asked  Betty  eagerly. 

"  The  old  Scottish  kings,  first  of  all.  They 
held  their  court  here  for  hundreds  of  years, 
and  kept  the  famous  coronation  stone  here — 
the  one  that's  now  in  Westminster  Abbey — 
until  the  Norwegians  got  to  be  too  much  for 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      103 

them  and  they  moved  the  stone  to  Scone. 
Then  the  Norwegians  took  Dunstaffnage,  and 
after  them,  their  descendants,  the  Lords  of 
Argyll  and  Lome.  In  Bruce's  time  Alexander 
of  Argyll  and  his  son  John  of  Lome  were 
bitter  enemies  of  the  king  and  almost  over- 
threw him.  But  Bruce  conquered  John  in 
the  Pass  of  Brander,  close  by  here,  and  shut 
up  old  Alexander  in  his  own  castle.  So  the 
family  lost  their  lands  to  the  crown,  though 
they  lived  on  here  for  over  a  century  longer, 
and  James,  Earl  of  Douglas,  met  the  heads  of 
the  family  here  and  tried  to  induce  them  to 
join  his  cause.  In  more  modern  times  Flora 
Macdonald  was  imprisoned  here  for  helping 
bonnie  Prince  Charlie  to  outwit  his  enemies 
and  escape  to  France." 

"  How  interesting  !  "  said  Betty  eagerly. 
"  It  just  gives  you  thrills  to  think  that  you're 
standing  on  such  historic  ground,  doesn't  it  ? 
Now  I  want  to  see  the  castle." 

While  Betty  and  Mr.  Dwight  had  been 
talking  in  the  chapel,  Babbie  had  hurried  the 
others  through  the  wood  and  around  to  the 
front  of  the  castle  where  the  entrance  was. 

"  They  couldn't  have  doorways  on  the  side 


io4      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

toward  the  sea,"  John  explained,  "  because  the 
enemy  would  have  come  in  small  boats,  crept 
up  through  the  wood  in  the  dark,  and  sur- 
rounded them." 

"  We  can  go  inside,  can't  we  ?  "  asked  Bab- 
bie eagerly,  and  by  the  time  Betty  appeared, 
Babbie  and  John  were  perched  on  the  narrow 
ledge  that  ran  almost  all  the  way  around  the 
top  of  the  crumbling  castle  wall. 

"It's  great !  "  Babbie  cried  to  the  rest,  mak- 
ing a  trumpet  of  her  hands.  "  You  can  see 
ever  so  far.  Come  up,  all  of  you  !  " 

So  the  rest,  who  had  dropped  down  on  the 
grass  to  rest  after  their  long  walk,  climbed  the 
narrow,  steep  stone  stairway  and  emerged  on 
the  ledge. 

As  Babbie  had  said,  it  was  "  great "  up  there. 
The  castle  stood  on  a  promontory  at  the  mouth 
of  a  beautiful  loch — which,  as  the  girls  had 
already  discovered  on  their  way  up  to  Oban, 
often  means  simply  an  arm  of  the  sea,  of 
which,  owing  to  the  irregularity  of  the  coast- 
line, there  are  a  great  many  in  Scotland.  You 
could  see  far  up  the  loch  in  one  direction  and 
out  to  the  open  sea  in  the  other,  and  in  the 
background  loomed  great,  mist-shrouded 


"COME  UP.  ALL  OF  YOU' 


BETTT  WALE$yB.A.       105 

peaks,  wild  and  terrible,  with  stretches  of 
lonely  moorland  in  the  nearer  distance. 

"  What  is  this?  "  asked  Babe,  pointing  to  a 
rusty  iron  standard  fastened  to  the  top  of  the 
castle's  sea-wall. 

"  That's  a  beacon-holder,"  Mr.  Dwight  told 
her.  "In  the  good  old  days  of  the  Border 
Wars,  this  castle  used  to  be  a  station  in  the 
chain  of  signal  fires.  They  fastened  a  bundle 
of  fagots  into  that  frame  and  set  them  on  fire, 
and  the  chief  in  the  castle  over  there  on  one 
of  those  purple  islands,  and  the  clan  gathered 
on  the  slope  of  Ben  Cruachan,  that  highest 
peak  up  at  the  head  of  the  loch,  saw  the  fire, 
and  knew  what  it  meant." 

"  What  did  it  mean  ?  "  demanded  Babe. 

"  Different  things  at  different  times,"  ex- 
plained Mr.  Dwight,  "  but  generally  death 
and  pillage  for  somebody." 

Babbie  gave  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction. 
"  How  lovely  I  I  accept  my  castle,  Madeline, 
with  many  thanks.  I  wish  it  had  some  rooms 
down-stairs  to  explore,  and  a  dungeon,  but  it's 
very  nice  just  as  it  is.  It's  so  absolutely  un- 
spoiled." 

"  It  certainly  doesn't  look  much  like  that 


106      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

dreadful  cottage  at  Ayr,"  laughed  Betty. 
"  Did  you  go  to  Ayr,  Mr.  Morton  ?  " 

John  nodded.  "Silly  little  place,  isn't  it? 
I  say,  Babbie,  there  is  one  thing  that  this  cas- 
tle lacks.  Dwight  and  I  were  talking  about 
it  this  morning  before  you  came.  Don't  you 
know  what  it  is?  " 

Babbie  considered,  frowning.  "  No,  I  don't, 
and  it  isn't  nice  of  you  to  pick  flaws  in  my 
castle,  John." 

"  I'm  not  picking  flaws,"  retorted  John. 
"  I'm  just  calling  your  attention  to  any  little 
defects  I've  noticed,  so  that  you  won't  accept 
your  castle  in  ignorance  and  live  to  repent 
your  rash  act  later.  Can't  any  of  you  guess 
what  I  mean  ?  " 

"I  can,"  said  Madeline  promptly.  "It 
ought  to  have  a  ghost.  No  castle  is  complete 
without  one.  But  are  you  perfectly  sure  this 
hasn't  any?" 

"  I'm  afraid  it  hasn't,"  said  John  solemnly. 
"  We've  been  here  three  nights  now,  and  no 
ghost  has  walked  so  far.  Besides  I  consulted 
the  family  who  live  in  the  farm  attached  to 
the  castle,  and  they  stoutly  deny  the  existence 
of  a  ghost." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      107 

"  Oh,  but  that  doesn't  prove  anything,"  de- 
clared Madeline.  "  Don't  you  know  that  the 
lords  of  the  castle  and  their  retainers  always 
deny  the  existence  of  a  ghost?  They  regard 
it  as  a  blemish  on  the  property." 

"  How  absurd  of  them,"  sighed  Babbie. 
"  Oh,  dear,  now  that  you've  mentioned  it,  I 
do  want  my  castle  to  have  a  ghost,  and  I  be- 
lieve it  has  one,  too.  Who  knows  about  the 
history  of  Dunstaffnage  ?  Wasn't  anybody 
ever  murdered  here,  or  didn't  some  beautiful 
lady  pine  away  for  love?  Those  are  the  most 
likely  kinds  of  ghosts,  aren't  they,  Madeline?" 

Madeline  nodded.  "  When  we  get  back  to 
Oban,  we'll  try  to  find  a  history  of  the  castle 
and  perhaps  we  can  unearth  a  ghost  for  you." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Dwight !  "  Betty  and  Mr.  Dwight 
held  a  whispered  conference,  then  she  turned 
to  Babbie. 

"  We've  thought  of  a  ghost  for  you.  Her 
name  is  Flora  Macdonald.  She  was  impris- 
oned here  once,  because  she  had  tried  to  help 
bonnie  Prince  Charles  to  escape,  after  there 
was  a  price  set  on  his  head." 

"  And  now  she  walks  in  the  beech-wood  ?  " 
asked  Babbie  eagerly. 


io8      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

Betty  looked  questioningly  at  Mr.  Dwight. 
"  She  ought  to,"  he  said  laughingly,  "  since  the 
fair  lady  of  the  castle  wishes  it.  I'll  inquire 
more  particularly  of  the  farm  people  and  let  you 
know  nexttimeyoupayavisittoyourdomain." 

"  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  going  back  now," 
said  Babbie  regretfully,  leaving  her  comfort- 
able perch  on  the  castle-wall. 

"I  should  think  so.  We've  forgotten  the 
strawberry  tartlets,"  cried  Babe  in  tragic  tones. 
"  It's  half-past  twelve  now,  and  our  dinner  is 
at  one." 

"  You  can't  possibly  make  it,"  said  John. 
"  You'd  better  stay  and  have  a  bite  with  us  at 
the  farm.  It  isn't  elegant,  but  everything 
tastes  good,  and  you  must  be  famished." 

"  We  are,"  sighed  Madeline. 

"  But  we've  got  to  go  back  for  our  own  din- 
ner," declared  Babe  sternly.  "  Miss  MacNish 
suggested  the  tartlets  on  purpose  to  please  us, 
you  know,  and  it  wouldn't  be  nice  of  us  not 
to  go  back.  It's  only  three  miles  by  road,  Mr. 
Morton  says,  so  we  ought  to  be  there  by  a 
quarter  past  one." 

"  You  won't  even  stop  for  a  drink  of  milk  ?  " 
urged  John. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.       109 

Babbie  shook  her  head.  "  It  would  take 
too  long.  Come  and  see  us,  John,  and  you 
too,  Mr.  Dwight.  We're  at  Daisybank  Villa. 
I  don't  know  the  street,  but  you  can  ask." 

"  Oh,  we'll  find  it  all  right,"  John  assured 
her.  "  I  say,  can't  we  take  some  trips  to- 
gether, or  some  tramps  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  Babbie  promised  him,  hurry- 
ing after  the  others.  "  We'll  arrange  it  when 
you  come." 

John  looked  after  the  party  admiringly. 
"  I  like  their  spirit,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Dwight, 
"  going  back  so  as  not  to  disappoint  their  land- 
lady. Babbie  Hildreth  is  always  like  that — 
just  as  fair  and  square  as  any  fellow  you  can 
name.  She's  jolly  too — if  she  did  graduate 
from  college.  I  say,  Dwight,  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you  for  giving  me  the  morning  off, 
and  I'll  make  up  for  it  this  afternoon,  sure 
enough." 

Which  was  such  an  unprecedentedly  docile 
attitude  on  the  part  of  John  Morton  that  his 
bewildered  tutor  hoped  Babbie  Hildreth  and 
her  friends  would  continue  to  stay  in  Oban 
and  exercise  their  beneficent  influence. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SCOTCH    MISTS 

NEXT  day  it  rained — a  dismal,  drizzling 
sort  of  rain  that  acted  as  if  it  never  meant  to 
stop. 

"  I  suppose  this  is  a  Scotch  mist,"  said  Babe 
dolefully  at  breakfast.  "  Of  course  we  ought 
to  enjoy  it,  as  an  experience  of  real  Scotch 
weather,  but  for  my  part  I  prefer  a  good  rat- 
tling American  rain-storm." 

"  We  shouldn't  want  to  take  another  long 
walk  to-day,  even  if  it  were  pleasant,"  said 
Betty  consolingly.  "  I  shouldn't  at  least. 
Sprinting  home  after  the  strawberry  tarts 
made  me  horribly  lame." 

"  Me  too,"  sighed  Babbie.  "  Also  it  made 
a  hole  in  my  shoe — the  only  pair  I  have  that 
are  right  for  rough  walking." 

"  Let's  put  on  rain-coats  and  go  hunting  a 
cobbler,"  proposed  Madeline. 

"  And  a  history  of  Dunstaffnage,"  added 
no 


BETTT  WALES,  B.A.   in 

Babbie.  "  I  asked  Miss  MacNish  if  there  was 
a  library  in  Oban  and  she  said  no  ;  so  we  shall 
have  to  find  a  book-store." 

"  We  can  buy  post-cards  too,"  put  in  Betty. 
"  This  is  just  the  right  kind  of  day  for  writing 
letters." 

So  they  tramped  blithely  down  the  hill  and 
wandered  in  more  leisurely  fashion  along 
Oban's  one  business  street. 

"  There's  a  shoe-shop,"  announced  Babe 
presently.  "  And  it  says  in  the  window  '  Re- 
pairing done  while  you  wait.' ' 

"  Goodie !  "  exclaimed  Madeline.  "  Then  I 
shall  have  my  sole  patched,  too.  It's  worn 
terribly  thin  on  these  stony  Scotch  roads." 

The  smiling  saleswoman  showed  the  girls 
into  a  tiny  back  room,  where  Madeline  could 
sit  while  she  waited  "  with  one  shoe  off  and 
one  shoe  on."  Babbie  stayed  to  keep  her 
company,  and  Babe  and  Betty  went  off  to  buy 
post-cards,  promising  to  come  back  before  long 
with  sweet  chocolate  for  the  captives. 

"  This  looks  like  a  book-store,"  said  Babe, 
stopping  before  a  little  shop  with  magazines 
in  the  window.  "  We  might  inquire  about 
the  history  of  Babbie's  castle." 


H2      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

A  severe-looking,  heavily  bearded  old  gentle- 
man came  out  from  a  back  room  to  meet  them. 
No,  this  was  not  a  book-shop,  he  explained 
gruffly ;  it  was  a  stationer's ;  there  were  two 
book-shops  at  the  other  end  of  the  esplanade. 

Just  then  Betty  caught  sight  of  some  post- 
cards. "  Oh,  what  lovely  cards  !  "  she  cried. 
"  Here's  one  of  Dunollie,  and  one  of  Dun- 
staffnage,  and  oh — here's  that  lovely  gray 
beach  that  we  came  down  to  from  the  black 
cow's  pasture.  Caernavan  Sands  is  its  name. 
Doesn't  that  sound  romantic?" 

"  My  cairds  are  hand-teented,"  said  the  old 
stationer  in  broad  Scotch.  "  They  are  tup- 
pence ha'  penny  each.  Not  that  it  mak's  ony 
deeference  to  you,  maybe." 

"  Tuppence  ha'  penny,"  repeated  Babe  medi- 
tatively. "  That's  five  cents — cheap  enough 
for  hand-colored  ones,  I'm  sure." 

Betty  picked  out  the  cards  she  wanted  from 
the  rack,  and  then  noticed  more  piles  behind 
the  counter. 

"  Oh,  are  there  some  others  back  there  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  May  I  see  them,  please  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  said  something  which 
Betty  mistook  for  permission  to  go  behind  the 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.       113 

counter  and  look  ;  but  as  she  started  to  do  so 
he  barred  her  way. 

"  No,  no,  madam,"  he  said  sternly.  "  You 
can  go  wherever  you  like  in  your  own 
country,  but  in  my  shop  you  stay  where  you 
belong." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Betty  meekly. 
"  I  thought  you  said  I  might  see  them.  I'm 
very,  very  sorry." 

"  I  said  I  wad  bring  ye  the  ones  that  were 
deeferent  from  those  in  the  rack,"  said  the 
old  man,  glaring  at  poor  Betty  from  under 
his  beetling  eyebrows. 

"  Let's  not  buy  his  old  cards,"  muttered 
Babe  indignantly  in  Betty's  ear. 

But  Betty  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 
"  They're  too  pretty  to  lose,"  she  whispered. 
"  We  should  be  just  spiting  ourselves." 

By  this  time  the  old  Scotchman  seemed  to 
be  a  little  mollified,  and  condescended  to  ask 
the  girls  what  trips  they  had  taken  from  Oban 
and  to  show  them  some  views  of  Glencoe,  a 
beautiful  mountain  pass,  and  of  lona,  the 
island  where  Saint  Columba's  church  is,  both 
of  which  he  recommended  them  to  visit. 
Babe  listened  in  sulky  silence,  leaving  Betty 


u4      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

to  answer  his  questions  and  thank  him  for 
his  advice. 

"  Come  again,  leedies,"  he  said,  as  they  went 
out,  and  Betty  thanked  him  politely  for  that, 
too. 

"  Hateful  old  thing  I  "  cried  Babe,  when 
they  were  once  more  outside.  "  The  idea  of 
talking  that  way  to  us,  just  because  we're 
Americans.  What  has  he  got  against  America, 
I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  him,"  said  Betty  soothingly. 
"  His  post-cards  are  perfectly  lovely.  Now 
let's  get  the  sweet  chocolate  for  those  poor 
hungry  girls." 

"Oh,  what  fascinating  little  cakes,"  cried 
Babe  rapturously,  stopping  before  a  pastry- 
cook's window.  "  Don't  you  suppose  they'd 
rather  have  those  than  just  ordinary  sweet  choc- 
olate ?  It  would  be  such  fun  buying  them." 

"  It's  fun  buying  anything  over  here  with 
this  queer  English  money,"  laughed  Betty. 
"  Doesn't  it  seem  to  you  just  like  toy  money, 
Babe  ?  " 

Babe  nodded.  "And  when  I  spend  it  I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  were  spending  real  money  at 
all.  It's  the  loveliest  feeling  that  whatever 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A,      115 

you  buy  doesn't  matter  a  bit,  as  long  as  toy 
money  will  pay  for  it." 

"  Let's  buy  four  of  the  buns  and  three  of  the 
chocolaty  ones  and  an  odd  one  for  you,  be- 
cause you  don't  like  chocolate,"  said  Betty, 
returning  to  the  cakes. 

They  got  back  to  the  shoe-shop,  with  their 
bag  of  cakes,  just  in  time  to  find  Madeline 
tying  on  her  mended  shoe. 

"  Let's  save  the  cakes  till  we  get  home," 
she  proposed.  "  We  can  eat  them  while  we're 
reading  about  Flora  Macdonald.  Oh,  let  me 
see  your  post-cards.  What  beauties  1  Show 
us  where  they  came  from,  this  minute." 

"  All  right,  only  prepare  to  be  insulted  if 
you  go  inside,"  said  Babe,  and  she  told  the 
story  of  their  experience. 

"  Crusty  old  party,  isn't  he  ?  "  said  Madeline. 
"  Oh,  I  know  what !  I  can  do  a  beautiful 
English  accent.  I'll  go  in  and  make  him 
think  I'm  English.  Then  he'll  talk  to  me 
confidentially  about  America." 

"  But  then  I  shan't  have  any  cards,"  ob- 
jected Babbie  forlornly. 

"  Oh,  I'll  bring  you  some,"  Madeline 
promised  her.  "Wait  for  me " 


u6      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  In  that  Scotch  plaid  store  over  there," 
supplied  Babe,  who  never  let  an  interesting 
shop  escape  her  notice. 

There  were  golf  capes  in  the  store,  tweed 
ulsters — "  Just  the  thing  for  a  Scotch  mist," 
said  Babbie,  shivering  in  her  natty  silk  rain- 
coat— beautiful  little  kilted  suits  for  small 
boys  to  wear,  and  best  of  all,  a  proprietor 
resplendent  in  full  Scotch  regalia — kilted  skirt, 
"golf"  stockings,  green  coat,  and  the  insignia  of 
his  clan  dangling  from  a  belt  around  his  waist. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  gorgeous," 
murmured  Babbie  under  her  breath.  "  These 
plaid  silk  squares  will  make  lovely  bags,  girls. 
I'm  going  to  buy  a  Macdonald  one,  in 
memory  of  Flora.  I  do  hope  she  will  turn 
out  to  be  the  ghost  of  my  castle." 

So  Babbie  timidly  approached  the  majestic 
figure  in  plaids,  who  bowed  affably  and  did 
up  the  silk  square  as  neatly  as  any  ordinary 
salesman,  talking  pleasantly  meanwhile  about 
the  rain  and  the  war-ship  that  had  appeared 
that  morning  in  the  harbor. 

The  transaction  was  barely  completed  when 
Madeline  came  back,  laden  with  post-cards 
and  bursting  with  merriment. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      117 

"  I  took  him  in  completely,"  she  said. 
"  He  told  me  all  about  you  two  and  how  you 
acted  as  if  you  owned  Oban  and  his  shop,  and 
how  the  Americans  are  all  millionaires  and 
are  spoiling  the  town,  running  about  every- 
where, asking  senseless  questions  and  not 
respecting  any  one's  privacy." 

"Wouldn't  he  have  enjoyed  seeing  us  get  over 
that  chicken-wire  fence?"  said  Babe  viciously. 

"  And  wouldn't  he  be  wild  if  he  heard 
Babbie  refer  to  Dunstaffnage  as  her  castle  ?  " 
added  Betty. 

"  Well,  as  an  impartial  person  who  hasn't 
seen  him,"  put  in  Babbie,  "  I  think  there's  a 
good  deal  in  his  ideas.  Lots  of  American 
tourists  are  frights.  Wouldn't  you  be  mad, 
if  you  lived  in  Ayr,  to  see  them  swarming 
around  the  Burns  relics  and  turning  the  town 
into  pandemonium  every  pleasant  day  all 
summer  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  should,"  admitted  Babe,  "  but 
all  the  same  I  wouldn't  be  rude  about  it.  I'd 
move  away." 

"  Oh,  but  perhaps  you  couldn't,"  began 
Betty  seriously.  "  If  you  were  old,  you 
know,  and  your  business  was  there " 


n8      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Whereupon  the  other  three  burst  into  peals 
of  laughter  at  her  earnestness,  and  couldn't 
sober  down  even  at  the  prospect  of  scandaliz- 
ing the  bookseller  as  much  as  they  had  the 
crabbed  old  stationer.  But  the  bookseller 
proved  to  be  a  brisk  young  fellow  with  an  eye 
for  trade,  and  no  national  prejudices.  He  sold 
them  two  paper-covered  guides  to  the  region 
around  Oban,  which,  he  assured  them,  would 
tell  them  all  about  Flora  Macdonald,  and  all 
about  Dunstaffnage  castle  as  well.  He  too 
had  post-cards,  and  Babe  bought  some,  "  on 
principle,"  she  explained,  because  he  was  so 
very  agreeable  to  Americans. 

After  dinner  it  rained  harder  than  ever,  so 
the  girls  gathered  in  Miss  MacNish's  parlor, 
the  use  of  which,  they  had  discovered,  went 
with  "  lodgings."  They  had  exhausted  the 
guide-books,  written  on  most  of  their  post- 
cards, decided  to  go  to  lona  on  the  first 
pleasant  day,  if  there  ever  was  one,  and  were 
beginning  to  feel  very  dull  indeed,  when 
Miss  MacNish's  funny  little  maid  appeared  to 
say  that  there  were  two  gentlemen  down- 
stairs ;  and  should  she  bring  them  right  up  ? 

"  It's  John  and  Mr.  Dwight,  of  course,"  said 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      119 

Babbie  gleefully.  "  Isn't  it  jolly  of  them  to 
come  all  this  way  through  the  rain  to  see  us  ?  " 

"  We  got  drowned  out,"  John  explained. 
"  It's  the  first  rain  since  we  began  to  camp, 
and  we  found  it  most  horribly  wetting.  So 
we  folded  our  tent  like  the  Arabs,  silently 
stole  with  it  to  the  farmer's  barn,  and  took  up 
our  quarters  at  the  hotel  nearest  Daisy  bank 
Villa.  And  here  we  are." 

"  Wad  ye  like  an  early  tea  for  your  friends  ?  " 
inquired  Miss  MacNish,  smilingly  appearing 
in  the  doorway ;  and  Babbie  said  yes,  if  it 
was  perfectly  convenient. 

"  We  were  hoping  you'd  ask  us  to  tea,"  con- 
fessed Mr.  Dwight  laughingly.  "  We've  be- 
come horribly  bored  with  each  other's  society, 
haven't  we,  J.  ?  " 

"  And  we  were  getting  bored  with  ours,"  re- 
torted Madeline.  "  A  rainy  day  is  a  dreadful 
strain  on  the  tourist's  temper,  isn't  it?" 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  it's  going  to  clear 
up  to-morrow  ?  "  demanded  John  anxiously. 
"  Because  if  it  does,  and  if  Mrs.  Hildreth 
doesn't  object,  we  were  hoping  you'd  go  on 
some  sort  of  excursion  with  us." 

"  How  jolly  !  "  cried  Babbie,  and  suggested 


120      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

lona.  But  the  men  had  been  there,  and  John 
objected  to  going  anywhere  in  a  crowd. 

"  What  I  meant  was  to  go  off  somewhere 
just  as  we  did  that  summer  in  the  woods,  not 
looking  for  scenery  or  for  storied  castles,  but 
just  for  a  jolly  good  time  and  a  good  tramp — 
or  a  drive  if  you  girls  prefer  that." 

Babbie  twisted  her  face  into  an  expression 
of  puzzled  amusement.  "  Oh,  John  Morton, 
you  are  so  funny,"  she  gasped.  "  You  mean 
you  want  to  forget  you're  in  Scotland  and 
pretend  you're  in  America,  so  you  can  go  on 
a  plain  American  picnic." 

"  I  object  to  plain,"  said  John  promptly. 
"  I  insist  on  having  extra-super  eats  on  any 
picnic  that  I  honor  with  my  presence.  Stop 
laughing,  Babbie.  I  don't  see  anything  so 
funny  in  wanting  to  go  on  a  picnic." 

"  Well,  probably  there  isn't,"  admitted  Bab- 
bie, "  only  I  never  went  on  one  before  in  Eu- 
rope, and  I  never  heard  of  any  one  else  who 
did.  But  I  think  it  will  be  great  fun." 

"  And  that's  what  we're  here  for,"  added 
Madeline  promptly.  "  We're  not  the  kind  of 
tourists  who  bore  themselves  with  solid  days 
of  ruins  and  museums  and  galleries  that  they'd 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.       121 

never  think  of  visiting  if  they  were  in  New 
York.  We  hope  to  improve  our  minds  when 
it's  perfectly  agreeable,  but  we're  all  against 
cramming." 

"  Why,  Madeline  Ayres,"  cried  Betty  ea- 
gerly, "  you  know  you  were  the  worst  crammer 
in  19—." 

"  The  best,  you  mean,  my  child,"  Madeline 
corrected  her.  "  Well,  now  that  I'm  a  full- 
fledged  B.  A.,  I  see  the  error  of  my  ways,  and 
I  am  resolved  not  to  cram  on  the  British 
museum  when  we  get  to  it." 

"  Everybody  stop  disputing,"  commanded 
Babe,  "  and  decide  about  the  eats." 

"  Let's  cook  something,"  suggested  Made- 
line. "  I  hate  cold  luncheons." 

"  It's  just  the  weather  fora  bacon-bat,"  said 
Betty. 

"  Then  let's  have  one  by  all  means,"  Mr. 
Dwight  seconded  her.  "  I  don't  know  what 
it  is,  but  it  certainly  sounds  appetizing." 

"  It's  great,"  Babe  assured  him.  "  You 
roast  the  bacon  on  sticks,  and  have  rolls  and 
pickles  and  things  to  go  with  it,  and  coffee, 
of  course.  We  used  to  have  them  all  winter 
in  Harding  when  it  wasn't  too  snowy." 


122      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"All  right,"  said  John,  "a  bacon-bat  it 
shall  be.  We'll  get  the  things  in  the  morn- 
ing when  we  start  off.  Now  the  next  question 
is,  shall  we  walk  or  ride  ?  " 

"  Let's  walk,"  said  Babe.  "  We're  all  crazy 
over  walking.  Unless — would  your  mother 
go  if  we  rode,  Babbie?  " 

But  Mrs.  Hildreth,  who  appeared  just  then, 
having  heard  from  Miss  MacNish  about  the 
early  tea,  said  she  was  sure  that  even  if  it 
cleared  off  in  the  morning  it  would  be  too 
damp  for  her  idea  of  a  picnic,  so  it  was  finally 
decided  to  walk. 

As  soon  as  tea  was  over,  John  declared  that 
he  must  go.  "  Got  to  bone  this  evening  to 
make  up  for  taking  part  of  to-morrow  morn- 
ing off,"  he  explained,  blushing  and  looking 
sheepishly  at  Mr.  Dwight. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  pay  in  advance 
for  your  fun,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Hildreth.  "  It's 
the  best  way." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Mrs.  Hildreth,"  said 
John.  "  Anyhow  I'm  experimenting  on  it 
just  at  present.  We'll  be  here  at  eleven  sharp, 
Babbie." 

Next  morning  every  one  of  the  girls  got  up 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      123 

long  before  Daisybank's  breakfast  hour  to 
have  a  look  at  the  weather.  At  least  it  wasn't 
raining,  and  the  sun  might  come  out  by  eleven. 

"  Besides,  who  cares  for  the  weather  ?  "  in- 
quired Babe  calmly,  lacing  up  her  heaviest 
shoes.  "  We  can't  waste  another  day  moping 
around  indoors." 

"  We'd  better  take  the '  last  resorts  '  though," 
said  Betty.  "  The  wood  will  all  be  wet." 

"  Lucky  mother  insisted  on  bringing  two  of 
them,"  said  Babbie.  "  Now  we  can  have  one 
for  the  bacon  and  one  for  the  coffee." 

The  sun  wasn't  shining  at  eleven ;  indeed 
the  sky  was  very  gray,  and  John  and  Mr. 
Dwight  looked  dubious  as  they  turned  in 
at  Daisybank  Villa.  But  they  were  pleasantly 
disappointed  at  finding  the  four  girls  arrayed 
in  sweaters  and  tam-o'-shanters,  all  ready  to 
start. 

"  We've  bought  the  lunch,  too,"  explained 
Babe,  thrusting  a  bulky  parcel  into  John's 
arms.  "  We  thought  we  shouldn't  have  any 
too  much  time  to  get  well  out  into  the  coun- 
try before  it  was  time  to  eat." 

When  they  had  gone  about  two  miles  across 
the  moors,  John,  who  was  ahead  with  Betty, 


124      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

stopped  short.  "  Did  you  make  it  a  bacon- 
bat  ?  "  he  demanded  anxiously. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Betty. 

"  Weren't  we  elected  to  make  it  that  ?  " 
asked  Madeline. 

"Then  we  shall  starve,"  declared  John 
tragically.  "  Look  at  your  skirts.  How  are 
we  going  to  make  a  fire  with  everything  drip- 
ping wet  like  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  is  that  your  trouble  !  "  Babe  gave  a 
sigh  of  relief,  which  the  others  echoed.  "  Why, 
we've  brought  the  '  last  resorts  '  along.  You 
don't  know  what  they  are,  do  you  ?  It's  pri- 
vate Harding  slang.  Let's  camp  on  the  top 
of  that  lovely  steep  cliff,  with  the  purple 
heather  on  top  of  it,  and  then  we'll  show  you 
about  '  last  resorts.' ' 

So  they  settled  themselves  on  the  rocks, 
Babe  produced  the  two  chafing-dish  lamps, 
and  a  flask  of  alcohol  from  somewhere  inside 
her  sweater, — she  and  Bob  always  tucked 
things  away  in  mysterious  places  to  leave  their 
hands  free, — and  Mr.  Dwight  obligingly  held 
the  coffee-pot  over  one  lamp,  while  Babbie 
arranged  the  table  on  a  flat  rock,  and  the  rest 
threaded  thin  slices  of  bacon  on  to  pointed 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.      125 

sticks  and  squabbled  merrily  for  a  chance  to 
hold  them  near  the  flame  of  the  other  lamp. 
Miss  MacNish  had  given  them  scones  instead 
of  rolls,  and  raspberry  tartlets  for  dessert,  so 
it  wasn't  quite  an  American  picnic  after  all. 
But  it  was  a  perfectly  satisfactory  one,  John 
declared. 

"  Are  all  Harding  girls  like  your  crowd  ?  " 
he  asked  Babe  on  the  way  home. 

Babe  considered  laughingly.  "  How  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  jolly,  and  up  to  things,  not  minding 
if  you  get  your  skirts  wet  going  'cross 
country,  and  knowing  about  '  last  resorts,' 
and  all  that." 

"  Well,  of  course  we  always  thought  we  were 
a  little  jollier  than  any  other  crowd,"  Babe 
explained  modestly.  "  We  called  ourselves 
'  The  Merry  Hearts/  you  know,  and  we  had 
all  the  fun  there  was  going,  I  guess — especially 
Bob  Parker  and  Babbie  and  I." 

John's  face  darkened  suddenly.  "  I  thought 
from  something  Babbie  said — did  you  go  in 
hard  for  honors  and  all  that  ?  " 

"I  didn't,"  said  Babe  sturdily.  "I  just 
managed  to  keep  along.  I'm  not  a  bit  clever, 


126      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

you  see,  but  the  others  are — except  Betty,  per- 
haps, and  she  was  always  right  up  in  her  work. 
Helen  Adams  and  Madeline  were  prods,  in 
lit.  and  themes,  and  Eleanor  Watson  was 
fine  in  everything  after  she  settled  down  to 
work.  Babbie  was  the  brightest  kind  of  a  star 
in  the  languages,  and  Bob  and  K.  Kittredge 
were  in  all  the  scientific  societies.  Oh,  and 
Roberta  Lewis  was  a  wonderful  actress  and 
Rachel  Morrison  was  considered  the  best  all- 
around  student  in  19 — .  Everybody  but  me 
was  in  Clio  or  Dramatic  Club." 

"  I  think  you  were  wise  to  stay  out,"  said 
John  carelessly.  "  I  don't  believe  in  killing 
yourself  with  work,  just  for  a  few  empty 
honors." 

"  Empty  honors ! "  Babe's  brown  eyes 
flashed.  "  Do  you  think  honors  are  empty 
in  a  girl's  college?  I  should  like  to  have 
been  a  star  too,  I  can  tell  you.  I  never  got 
a  condition,  but  once  I  was  warned  and  I 
had  several  low-grades.  I  was  just  awfully 
ashamed  of  them.  I  hate  messing  things." 
Babe  paused,  suddenly  remembering  that 
Babbie  had  said  vaguely  that  Mr.  Dwight 
was  coaching  John  Morton  for  some  examina- 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      127 

tions,  and  that  John  had  spoken  of  having 
work  to  do.  "  I  hope  I  haven't  hurt  your 
feelings,"  she  murmured.  "  Babbie  said  you 
were  studying — you  said — well,  anyhow  I 
never  thought  that  maybe  you'd  flunked  some 
courses.  I'm  sorry.  Call  it  quits  for  what 
you  said  about  my  walk,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  even  for  that  already. 
How  about  having  thought  I  was  a  Dutch- 
man?" 

"  I  never,"  said  Babe  laughingly.  "  That 
was  Madeline.  I've  never  seen  a  Dutchman 
that  I  know  of,  so  I  couldn't  think  either 
way." 

"All  right  then.  Anyhow  I  don't  mind 
your  saying  what  you  think.  Yes,  I  did 
flunk — got  to  do  senior  year  over  again. 
You  see  I  went  with  a  crowd  of  fellows  who 
were  just  there  for  the  fun  of  it,  and  I  got 
careless  and  began  coaching  too  late.  I  be- 
lieve you're  right  about  messing  things." 

"  John,  Miss  Hildreth  wants  to  see  her 
castle  by  moonlight,"  called  Mr.  Dwight. 
"  Do  you  think  we  could  arrange  it?  " 

"  Why,  there's  nothing  to  hinder  if  the 
moon's  willing — she  is,  isn't  she?  Unless 


128      BETTT   WALES,   B.A. 

Mrs.  Hildreth  objects,  at  least.  We  could 
drive  out  right  after  tea,  or  we  could  drive 
out  in  the  afternoon  and  have  tea  there. 
What  do  you  say,  Babbie  ?  " 

Babbie  refused  to  be  interested  in  tea. 
"I'm  hoping  my  ghost  will  walk,"  she  ex- 
plained. "I  don't  think  you  gave  her  a  fair 
trial.  Ghosts  prefer  to  walk  by  moonlight ; 
it's  so  much  more  becoming." 

"  We'll  go  day  after  to-morrow,"  said 
Mr.  Dwight.  "That's  the  night  for  a  full 
moon." 

"  And  we'll  give  the  ghost  the  fairest  kind 
of  a  fair  trial,"  added  Madeline,  and  im- 
mediately engaged  in  a  low-toned  conversation 
with  Mr.  Dwight,  who  was  convulsed  with 
merriment  at  something  she  told  him.  The 
two  kept  quite  by  themselves  all  the  rest  of 
the  way  home,  and  when  Babe  demanded  to 
know  the  joke,  they  only  smiled  mysteriously 
and  said  it  would  take  too  long  to  explain. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   GHOST   OF   DUNSTAFFNAGE 

"  WILL  I  chaperon  a  moonlight  expedition 
to  your  castle  ?  Babbie  dear,  what  mad 
scheme  will  you  think  of  next  ?  " 

Babbie  gave  her  mother  a  loving  little  hug. 
"  I  didn't  think  of  it  all  by  myself — we  all 
thought  of  it  together,  including  John  and 
Mr.  Dwight.  Isn't  it  a  nice  idea,  mummie? 
Aren't  you  crazy  to  see  your  daughter's  castle 
by  the  witching  light  of  the  full  moon  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hildreth  laughed  and  hugged  Babbie. 
"  I  certainly  am.  It's  extremely  interesting 
to  have  a  castle  in  the  family.  You're  sure 
you're  not  finding  Oban  dull,  girls  ?  I'm 
quite  rested  now  from  the  voyage,  and  we 
can  go  on  to  London  and  Paris  as  fast  as 
you  like." 

"  Oban  dull !  "  echoed  four  amazed  voices. 

"  Why,  mummie,  it's  perfectty  splendid  !  " 
Babbie  explained  eagerly.  "  You  must  come 
with  us  this  morning  and  see  the  cottages 

129 


130      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

back  behind  the  hill — they're  just  smothered 
in  honeysuckle.  And  yesterday  we  found 
where  the  shooting  that  we  hear  so  often 
comes  from.  There's  a  target  back  there,  and 
funny  little  soldiers  in  plaids — think  of  fight- 
ing real  battles  in  kilts,  mummie  ! — shoot  at  it 
every  afternoon." 

"  And  Sunday  Mr.  MacNish  is  going  to 
take  us  to  a  Gaelic  service  at  the  Free  Kirk," 
put  in  Betty.  "  He's  lent  Madeline  a  Gaelic 
primer,  so  she  can  learn  to  say  good-morning 
to  the  people  at  the  church  in  their  own  old- 
time  language." 

"  This  is  an  open  day  for  Fingal's  castle," 
suggested  Madeline.  "  Mrs.  Hildreth  ought 
to  see  that,  so  she  can  compare  it  with  yours, 
Babbie." 

"  Come  on,  dear.  Get  your  hat  this  very 
minute,"  Babbie  commanded.  "  When  you're 
traveling  with  four  B.  A.'s  you  can't  waste 
time." 

"  '  B.  A.'s  Abroad  ' — wouldn't  that  be  a  nice 
title  for  the  journal  Madeline  is  keeping  for 
us  ?  "  suggested  Babe.  "  It's  so — so — what 
do  you  call  a  thing  that  sounds  like  that  ?  " 

"  Alliterative,"  answered  Betty  promptly. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.       131 

"  I  looked  up  that  word  in  the  fall  of  fresh- 
man year  because  Mary  Brooks  said  it  about 
Katherine  Kittredge  of  Kankakee." 

"  But  if  we  have  that  title,"  objected 
Babbie,  "  we  shall  have  to  live  up  to  it.  I 
read  over  the  Glasgow  chapter  last  evening, 
and  it  sounds  pretty  frivolous  for  B.  A.'s." 

"Frivolous!"  sighed  Madeline,  "when  I 
put  in  all  Babe's  lofty  sentiments  about  the 
poetry  of  Burns,  and  a  whole  paragraph  on 
our  interest  in  Gothic  architecture.  Besides, 
why  shouldn't  we  be  frivolous  now  and  then  ? 
Nobody  can  accuse  us  of  not  seeing  what's  to 
be  seen,  and  think  how  industriously  we've 
read  up  on  Flora  Macdonald." 

"  For  fun,"  objected  Babe. 

"  If  you  can  -make  play  out  of  work  you've 
learned  the  art  of  true  happiness,"  declared 
Madeline.  "  Isn't  that  the  gospel  of  Bohemia 
and  of  Harding,  as  I've  been  expounding  it 
for  four  long  and  weary  years  ?  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Dwight  said  he  might  be  up  this  after- 
noon, so  I  suppose  I'd  better  not  go  out  until 
later." 

"  You  and  Mr.  Dwight  are  getting  awfully 
chummy,"  said  Babe.  But  it  was  no  fun 


i32      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

teasing  Madeline  about  men,  because  she 
never  cared  enough  even  to  listen  to  what 
one  was  saying.  Now  she  answered  coolly 
that  it  was  lucky  Mr.  Dwight  hadn't  made 
his  announcement  more  general,  since  it  had 
turned  out  to  be  such  a  perfect  afternoon  for 
a  walk.  After  the  rest  were  safely  out  of  the 
way  she  went  to  find  Miss  MacNish,  who 
looked  very  much  amazed  when  Madeline 
explained  what  articles  she  wanted,  but  got 
them  for  her  all  the  same,  and  helped  her  do 
them  up  into  a  neat  parcel,  which  Mr.  Dwight 
smuggled  out  through  the  garden  just  as  the 
others  were  coming  in  by  the  front  gate. 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  afternoon  John 
drew  up  the  finest  pair  of  horses  to  be  hired 
in  Oban  with  a  grand  flourish  in  front  of 
Daisybank  Villa,  and  Mr.  Dwight  helped 
Mrs.  Hildreth  and  the  girls  to  climb  into  the 
high  seats  of  the  trap,  while  Miss  MacNish 
stowed  away  a  tea-basket  and  all  sorts  of 
inviting  looking  boxes  and  bundles  under 
their  feet. 

"  Do  ye  ken  that  all  American  lassies 
are  like  these  ? "  she  asked  her  little  maid, 
as  they  stood  at  the  gate  waving  a  farewell 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.       133 

to  the  picnickers.  "  They're  verra  nice  lodg- 
ers— but  they  do  take  some  crazy  notions," 
she  added  grimly,  remembering  Madeline's 
confidence  of  the  afternoon  before. 

"  I'm  glad  we  have  plenty  of  time  to-day," 
said  Babbie,  with  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
when,  after  a  brisk  drive,  they  drew  up  in 
the  castle  yard.  "  I  want  to  go  all  through 
the  beech-wood,  and  climb  down  the  cliffs 
to  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  sit  on  the 
parapet  and  imagine  that  I'm  a  Norwegian 
princess  waiting  for  her  lover  who's  coming 
from  across  the  sea  in  a  little  boat  with  a 
white  sail." 

"Goodness,  how  romantic  1 "  sniffed  Babe. 
"  Where  are  we  going  to  have  tea  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Hildreth,  you  decide  that,"  said  John. 
"  When  you've  chosen  a  spot  we'll  pile  the 
baskets  and  things  near  it,  and  then  I'm 
going  back  to  the  farm  to  get  an  armful  of 
wood  for  the  signal-fire.  Your  forest  is  too 
well  kept,  Babbie.  There  are  no  twigs  on 
the  ground  for  the  convenience  of  the  ship- 
wrecked mariner  who  wants  to  signal  the 
nearest  dwelling  for  help.  It's  a  shame." 

"  Miss  Ayres  and   I   will  get  your  wood," 


i34      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

suggested  Mr.  Dwight.  "  I've  promised  to 
take  her  to  the  farm  to  see  if  any  of  the 
family  knows  how  to  speak  Gaelic." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  John.  "  I'm  not  a  bit 
keen  for  carrying  wood.  Be  sure  you  bring 
enough,  though  ;  we  want  a  rattling  big  signal, 
you  know.  Now  Mrs.  Hildreth,  let  me  show 
you  the  chapel." 

It  was  a  delightful  go-as-you-please  picnic. 
Babe  went  wading  in  a  pool  after  sea-anem- 
ones. Betty  lay  on  a  sunny  slope  dreaming 
of  all  the  good  times  she  had  been  having 
and  was  going  to  have  all  summer.  Madeline 
and  Mr.  Dwight  sat  on  the  parapet  and 
quarreled  amicably  over  the  right  way  to 
"  lay  "  a  signal-fire.  Babbie  and  John  con- 
ducted Mrs.  Hildreth  over  the  castle  do- 
main, and  when  she  was  tired  they  deco- 
rated the  tea-table — a  slab  of  rock  on  a  sunny 
slope  by  the  sea — with  sprays  of  white 
heather,  which  is  supposed  always  to  bring 
good  luck  to  those  who  wear  it.  After  tea 
they  all  sat  together  watching  the  sunset, 
while  Madeline  told  them  a  quaint  folk-tale 
that  an  old  grannie  at  the  farmhouse  had 
told  her,  all  about  ghosts  and  fairies  and 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      135 

gnomes  who  lived  on  the  islands  in  the 
firth. 

"  She  wouldn't  answer  when  we  asked  her 
about  a  ghost  for  this  castle,"  Madeline  added 
solemnly.  "She  just  shook  her  head  and 
muttered  something  about  '  trailing  white 
robes.'  Just  then  her  daughter  came  in  with 
the  wood,  and  the  old  woman  shut  up  like  a 
clam.  The  daughter  thinks  Gaelic  and  ghosts 
are  all  rubbish."  Madeline  stood  up.  "  It 
must  be  lovely  on  the  parapet  now." 

"  It's  lovely  here,"  said  Babe  dreamily,  and 
the  party  broke  up  again. 

So  it  happened  that  Babe,  who  was  the  last 
to  leave  the  shadowy  beech- wood,  was  alone 
down  by  the  little  chapel  when  she  saw  the 
ghost.  It  was  quite  across  the  wood  by  the 
wall,  when  she  first  noticed  it,  and  in  the  dusk 
she  thought  of  course  it  was  Babbie,  who  was 
wearing  a  white  serge  suit  and  a  big  white 
hat. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  to  watch  the  moon  rise 
with  the  others?"  Babe  called  to  her.  But 
the  figure  didn't  answer,  only  came  slowly 
nearer,  groping  its  way  uncertainly  among  the 
tree  trunks.  Presently  Babe  noticed  that  the 


136       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

white  dress  it  wore  hung  in  long,  loose  folds 
around  it,  quite  differently  from  Babbie's  suit, 
that  it  was  much  taller  than  she,  and  that  it 
carried  something  dark  in  one  outstretched 
hand. 

"  It's  a  trick  of  the  others.  They  know  I'm 
here  alone,  and  they've  sent  Madeline  down 
to  scare  me,"  Babe  reflected  indignantly. 

"  I  know  you  now,  Miss  Madeline  Ghost," 
she  called  across  to  the  figure,  "  so  you  may 
as  well  take  off  that  white  shawl  of  Mrs.  Hil- 
dreth's  and  come  with  me  to  the  parapet  to 
see  the  moon  rise." 

The  ghostly  figure  was  quite  near  now,  but 
if  it  was  Madeline  it  had  no  intention  of  let- 
ting Babe  know  it.  It  came  on  silently  to 
within  a  few  paces  of  where  she  stood  waiting, 
and  then  suddenly  and  without  warning  a 
pitiful  little  moaning  cry  broke  the  stillness 
of  the  wood, — a  sound  like  the  stifled,  smoth- 
ered sobbing  of  some  one  in  terrible  anguish. 

Babe  listened  for  a  minute  to  the  gruesome 
moaning.  Then,  "  Oh,  I  say,  that's  too  much," 
she  protested  indignantly.  "  You're  giving 
me  the  creeps,  Madeline  Ayres,  honestly  }7ou 
are.  Please  stop."  There  was  real  terror  in 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      137 

Babe's  appeal,  but  the  ghost  paid  no  heed. 
The  moaning  went  on  softly,  incessantly,  just 
as  before. 

Babe  hesitated  a  moment  longer,  and  then, 
pocketing  her  pride,  she  fled  up  the  path  to 
the  castle.  Out  of  the  wood  she  ran,  across 
the  grassy  slope,  and  up  the  winding  stone 
stairs,  as  if  she  thought  the  ghost  was  close 
behind  her.  Near  the  top  of  the  flight  she 
paused  for  breath.  "  Don't  care  if  they  did 
see  me,"  she  muttered  angrily,  brushing  the 
hair  out  of  her  face  and  assuring  herself  that 
the  ghost  had  not  followed.  "  It's  a  mean  trick 
to  scare  any  one  like  that.  It's  dangerous, 
really  it  is."  But  they  hadn't  seen  her  mad 
race  through  the  wood.  Apparently  they 
hadn't  even  missed  her.  They  were  all,  the 
whole  six  of  them,  Madeline  included,  gath- 
ered in  an  eager  group  around  the  signal-fire, 
which  wouldn't  burn,  in  spite  of  John's  most 
valiant  efforts,  because  the  wind  was  so  strong. 

"Oh,  Babe,  was  there  any  alcohol  left?" 
asked  Madeline,  glancing  up  as  Babe  came  to- 
ward them.  She  was  stooping  in  front  of  the 
beacon-holder,  with  her  skirt  spread  out  to 
shelter  the  struggling  little  flame.  "  I  don't 


138      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

think  there  could  be  any  harm  in  pouring  a 
little  on  this  wood,  do  you,  Mrs.  Hildreth?" 
she  went  on.  "  There's  nothing  up  here  to 
take  fire." 

"  I  don't  remember  noticing  about  the  alco- 
hol," answered  Babe,  making  a  valiant  effort 
not  to  catch  her  breath. 

"  I'll  go  and  look,"  volunteered  Betty. 

"  No,  let  me."     John  sprang  forward. 

"  You'd  never  find  the  flask,"  objected  Betty, 
"  or  if  you  did  you'd  mix  up  everything  in 
the  tea-basket." 

"Then  we'll  go  together,"  said  John,  and 
Babe  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  couldn't 
have  let  Betty  go  back  there  alone  without 
warning  her  and  she  hated  to  admit  that  she 
had  been  frightened  by — what  could  it  have 
been  anyway,  since  it  wasn't  Madeline  in  Mrs. 
Hildreth's  white  shawl  ?  Mrs.  Hildreth  had 
on  her  shawl  at  that  very  moment. 

Betty  and  John  were  gone  some  time,  and 
when  they  finally  appeared  Babe  knew  at  once 
that  they  had  seen  the  lady  in  white. 

"Oh,  Babbie,"  Betty  began  tremulously, 
"  there  is  a  ghost  attached  to  your  castle — or 
at  least  a  something.  It's  down  in  the  edge 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.       139 

of  the  wood,  near  the  lawn  where  we  left  the 
basket.  And  it's  moaning  in  the  most  hor- 
rible way." 

"  Truly  ?  "  Babbie  appealed  to  John. 

"  Sure.  It's  not  a  ghost,  of  course,  but  it's 
somebody  all  right,  in  a  long  white  cloak  sort 
of  thing,  with  one  hand  stretched  out,  hold- 
ing something  red.  The  way  it  cries  is 
certainly  spooky,"  added  John,  with  a  forced 
laugh. 

Madeline  exchanged  swift  glances  with  Mr. 
Dwight.  "  '  A  trailing  white  robe  and  a  sob 
in  the  night ' — that  was  what  the  old  crone 
said,  wasn't  it?  And  there  was  nothing  there 
when  you  came  up,  Babe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  saw  it,"  said  Babe  with  careful  un- 
concern, "  but  of  course  it  can't  be  a  ghost 
— nobody  believes  in  ghosts  nowadays.  I 
thought  it  was  one  of  you  girls  trying  to 
frighten  me." 

"  Maybe  it's  a  white  cow,"  suggested  Babbie. 
"  They  make  queer  noises  sometimes.  Don't 
you  remember  that  the  fierce  black  one  did  ?  " 

But  this  suggestion  was  received  with  great 
contempt  by  all  three  of  the  ghost-seers,  who 
declared  excitedly  that  they  could  tell  the 


i4o      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

difference  between  a  cow  and  a  woman,  even 
if  it  was  a  little  dusky  in  the  wood. 

"  Well,  of  course  I  don't  want  it  to  turn 
out  to  be  a  cow,"  Babbie  explained  apolo- 
getically. "  But  it  seems  too  good  to  be  true 
that  it's  a  ghost.  I'm  going  down  to  find  it 
this  very  minute." 

"  Alone?  "  inquired  Babe  gravely. 

"  No,  indeed,"  interposed  Mrs.  Hildreth 
promptly,  when  Madeline  pointed  down  to 
the  open  lawn  below  them. 

"  You  don't  need  to  go  down,  Babbie.  Look 
there." 

The  white  figure  was  coming  slowly,  silently 
out  from  behind  a  clump  of  tall  bushes.  The 
moon  had  risen  above  the  trees,  and  shone 
full  on  the  little  lawn  in  front  of  the  castle, 
making  it  almost  as  bright  as  day.  Slowly, 
silently  the  white  figure  came  forward,  trail- 
ing its  robe  over  the  short  grass,  one  hand 
held  aloft,  its  gaze  fastened  on  what  the  hand 
held — a  bright  bit  of  cloth,  it  seemed  to  be. 
When  it  had  reached  the  centre  of  the  lawn, 
the  figure  paused  and  throwing  back  its  head, 
so  that  the  moonlight  fell  full  on  its  face — 
the  sweet,  sad  face  of  a  young  girl — it  began 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      141 

the  uncanny  moaning  that  had  sent  Babe 
flying  to  find  her  friends. 

"  Gaelic,"  whispered  Madeline  under  her 
breath.  "  I  heard  the  words  for  love  and 
grief." 

"  She's  changed  to  English  now,"  whispered 
Mr.  Dwight  after  a  minute.  "  She's  crying, 
'  My  prince,  my  prince,  my  prince,'  over  and 


over." 


"  What's  that  in  her  hand  ?  "  asked  Babe, 
who  was  clinging  tight  to  Betty. 

"  It's  a  bit  of  Scotch  plaid,  isn't  it  ?  "  Babbie 
answered.  "  That  pretty  red  kind " 

"  The  royal  Stuart,"  supplied  Madeline. 

"  Then  it  is  Flora  Macdonald."  In  her  ex- 
citement Babbie  forgot  to  speak  low.  "  And 
she's  kept  a  bit  of  the  Stuart  plaid  in  memory 
of  the  prince  whose  life  she  saved.  She  was 
in  love  with  him,  of  course,  and  she  got  him 
off  to  France,  and  he  forgot  her.  And  they 
locked  her  up  here  right  afterward,  when  she 
was  feeling  the  worst  about  having  him  gone. 
Oh,  it  all  fits  in  beautifully !  How  can  you 
help  believing  in  ghosts  after  this  ?  " 

"  How,  indeed  ?  "  agreed  Madeline  drily. 
"  Oh,  ghost !  "  She  raised  her  voice.  "  Come 


142      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

up  on  the  turret  of  yon  gray  donjon,  and  help 
us  toast  marshmallows  in  the  blaze  of  the 
beacon  light." 

"  Madeline  !  "  chorused  three  indignant 
voices,  while  John  burst  into  peals  of  laugh- 
ter and  Mrs.  Hildreth,  who  had  been  let  into 
Madeline's  secret,  reproached  the  girls  for 
having  been  so  gullible. 

"  Though  it  was  a  very  effective  ghost,"  she 
admitted,  "  and  Madeline's  awe-struck  face,  as 
she  repeated  the  old  woman's  description,  was 
capital." 

"  Don't  blame  it  all  on  me,"  protested  Made- 
line. "  Mr.  D wight  is  a  fellow  conspirator." 

"  But  you  thought  of  it,"  Mr.  Dwight  re- 
minded her,  "  and  you  planned  where  we 
should  get  a  ghost,  and  you  coached  her  for  the 
part.  I  only  smuggled  out  the  costume,  con- 
sisting of  a  pair  of  Miss  MacNish's  best  linen 
sheets,  and  introduced  Miss  Ayres  and  the 
ghost  down  at  the  farmhouse.  Here  she  is, 
by  the  way.  Miss  MacBrague,  come  and  meet 
your  admiring  audience  and  receive  their  con- 
gratulations. You  took  everybody  in." 

Then  there  were  introductions,  explana- 
tions, and  questions  all  at  once.  Madeline 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.       143 

had  to  tell  how  she  had  thought  of  evoking  a 
spectre  to  complete  Babbie's  castle,  but  knew 
she  should  be  discovered  at  once  if  she  or  any 
one  else  in  the  picnic-party  was  missing  when 
the  ghost  appeared.  Mr.  Dwight  had  sug- 
gested Miss  MacBrague,  who  lived  down  the 
road  with  her  grandparents,  and  was  inter- 
ested in  the  old  folk-tales  of  the  countryside. 
Miss  MacBrague  apologized  prettily  for  her 
performance. 

"  I  dinna  go  to  the  play,"  she  said.  "  I 
havena  seen  the  great  actors  as  ye  have.  I 
did  only  just  as  Miss  Ayres  showed  me,  and 
the  crying  is  like  the  crying  that  the  old 
people  do  at  the  graves.  I  am  verra  glad  if 
it  pleased  ye,  and  I  hope  ye  were  na  really 
frighted,"  turning  to  Babe. 

"  You  ought  to  go  on  the  stage.  You're  a 
perfectly  splendid  actress,"  Babe  declared 
fervently.  "  But  it's  mean  of  you  to  oblige 
me  to  confess  how  I  ran  away  from  you." 

And  then  there  were  more  questions  and 
explanations,  and  the  laugh  was  on  Babe. 

Between  times  they  had  toasted  all  the 
marshmallows,  though  Babbie  protested  that 
it  was  taking  a  mean  advantage  of  her  beacon- 


144      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

holder  to  turn  it  to  such  base  uses ;  and  at 
last  Mrs.  Hildreth  said  it  was  time  to  start 
back.  They  dropped  little  Miss  MacBrague 
at  her  home  after  having  received  her  thanks 
for  "  th'  gae  good  time  ye've  given  me,"  and 
made  her  promise  to  come  and  see  them  in 
Oban,  and  drove  briskly  home,  for  the  sky 
had  clouded  over,  and  the  air  was  full  of  rain. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Babbie  jubilantly. 
"  I  can  feel  the  curl  walking  out  of  my 
feather,  but  who  cares  for  a  little  thing  like 
that  ?  Never  as  long  as  I  live  shall  I  forget 
the  lovely,  thrilly,  creepy  feeling  that  came 
over  me  when  I  saw  my  very  own  ghost 
walking  out  of  the  beech-wood  in  the  moon- 
light." 

"I  say,  that  was  rather  fine,  wasn't  it?" 
said  John.  "  You  girls  are  certainly  keeping 
out  of  the  rut  of  ordinary  European  travel." 

"That's  because  we  have  dominant  in- 
terests," explained  Madeline.  "  Mine  is  tea- 
rooms, Babbie's  is  evidently  ghosts,  and 
Babe's  is — let  me  see — chimney-pots." 

"  I'm  going  to  change,"  Babe  protested  in 
the  general  laugh  that  followed.  "  I  chose  in 
too  much  of  a  hurry.  I  want  an  interest 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      145 

that  you  can  follow  up.  You  can't  follow  up 
chimney-pots.  They're  all  right  there  on  the 
surface." 

"  On  the  roofs,  you  mean,"  laughed  John, 
"  and  only  chimney-sweeps  can  penetrate  their 
inner  mysteries.  What's  your  specialty,  Miss 
Wales?" 

"  I  haven't  any  yet,"  explained  Betty. 
"  I'm  hoping  mine  will  turn  up  before  long, 
though." 

"  Oh,  we'll  find  you  something  in  London," 
Madeline  promised  her  easily.  "  There  is 
something  for  everybody  in  London." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BETTY    DISCOVERS    HER   SPECIALTY 

"  STAYING  in  lodgings  in  a  villa  by  the  sea 
is  awfully  English,  but  so  are  a  lot  of  other 
things,"  said  Madeline  briskly.  "  We've  seen 
about  all  there  is  to  see  in  this  neighborhood, 
and  I  think  we  ought  to  be  pushing  on." 

It  was  nearly  a  week  after  the  ghost  party. 
The  girls  had  spent  the  two  really  pleasant 
days  in  visiting  Glencoe  and  lona,  both  of 
which  were  so  lovely  that  Betty  had  insisted 
upon  calling  on  the  crusty  old  stationer  to 
thank  him  for  suggesting  them.  Now  they 
were  gathered  in  the  sitting-room,  Baedekers 
in  hand,  holding  a  conclave  on  where  to  go 
next. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  sighed  Babe.  "  It's  been  so 
jolly  here  !  I  wish  we  could  settle  down  for 
all  summer.  But  of  course  I  know  it  would 
be  silly  to  come  way  across  the  ocean  and  then 
just  stick  in  one  spot." 

146 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      147 

"  John's  not  going  to  stay  all  summer, 
Babe,"  said  Babbie  pointedly,  for  during  the 
week  the  friendship  between  the  man-hater 
and  the  woman-hater  had  progressed  marvel- 
ously. 

"Isn't  he  ?  "  Babe's  tone  was  as  unconcerned 
as  if  she  had  not  solemnly  promised  to 
furnish  John  with  a  dated  itinerary  of  their 
trip,  and  to  write  him  the  very  minute  they 
changed  their  plans. 

"  Dwight  thinks  we  ought  to  stay  on  here 
till  he's  finished  coaching  me,"  John  had  told 
her  mournfully ;  "  because  there  are  so  few 
distractions  to  take  a  fellow's  mind  from  his 
work.  But  it  will  be  deadly  dull  after 
you've  gone." 

"  Have  you  a  lot  more  to  do?  "  Babe  had 
asked. 

"  No.  If  I  boned  hard,  I  think  I  could 
finish  in  two  weeks." 

"  Then  why  in  the  world  don't  you  bone 
hard  ?  "  demanded  Babe  bluntly.  "  Then  you 
can  do  as  you  please  all  the  rest  of  the 
summer,  can't  you  ?  " 

John  nodded.  "  After  he  gets  me  off  his 
hands,  Dwight's  going  to  study  at  the 


148      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

British  Museum  and  then  at  some  big  library 
in  Paris.  He's  getting  material  for  his 
doctor's  thesis.  I'm  going  to  keep  with  him 
for  a  while  and  then  join  the  governor  some- 
where and  go  home  with  him  in  time  to  start 
in  at  the  same  old  grind  next  fall.  I  don't 
envy  myself  the  trip  across,  either,"  sighed 
John. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Babe.  "You 
ought  to  like  traveling  with  your  father." 

John  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  He'll  be  in 
the  very  dickens  of  a  temper  by  that  time. 
You  see  he's  been  sent  over  here  by  his  doctor 
for  a  long  vacation,  and  he's  raging  around 
Europe  in  his  automobile,  getting  madder  and 
madder  every  minute,  because  he's  on  strict 
orders  to  do  nothing  but  loaf,  and  he  doesn't 
dare  to  disobey  instructions." 

"  He'll  like  it  when  he  gets  started,"  sug- 
gested Babe,  soothingly. 

"  Never,"  laughed  John.  "  You  don't  know 
my  father.  The  very  mention  of  a  vacation 
affects  him  just  the  way  Miss  Wales's  red  cap 
did  that  old  Scotch  cow.  You  ought  to  see 
the  letters  he  writes  me.  They  get  fiercer  and 
fiercer  each  time." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      149 

"  Well,  if  he's  that  kind  it  will  please  him 
to  know  that  you're  working  hard.  So  I  ad- 
vise you  all  the  more  to  pitch  in  and  hustle 
through,"  Babe  had  finished,  forcibly  if  not 
elegantly.  "  Give  yourself  two  weeks — or 
three,  to  be  perfectly  safe — and  then  dare 
yourself  to  finish." 

"  If  I  did  that,  I'd  probably  want  to  go  sail- 
ing all  the  time,  or  I'd  dawdle  over  an  excit- 
ing novel  and  forget  all  about  my  limit." 

"  I  haven't  much  use  for  a  person  who  dares 
himself  and  then  loses,"  said  Babe  coolly. 
"  Are  you  that  sort  ?  " 

John  did  not  answer  at  all  at  the  time,  but 
on  the  day  the  girls  left  Oban  he  took  Babe  to 
one  side.  "  Meet  you  anywhere  you  like  three 
weeks  from  day  before  yesterday,"  he  an- 
nounced gaily. 

"Good  for  you!"  returned  Babe.  "I'll 
keep  you  posted." 

"  Here's  a  pin  to  remind  you  of  your  prom- 
ise," said  John,  holding  out  a  stick-pin  set 
with  a  Scotch  cairngorm.  "  Girls  have  such 
short  memories." 

"  They  haven't  any  shorter  memories  than 
boys,"  declared  Babe  indignantly.  "  I'm  just 


150      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

as  much  obliged  for  the  pin,  but  I  don't 
need  it." 

"  Take  it  as  a  souvenir  of  Oban,  then," 
urged  John. 

Babe  looked  longingly  at  the  sparkling  yel- 
low stone.  "  Do  you  take  back  what  you  said 
about  girls'  memories?" 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  don't  know  much  about 
the  general  run  of  girls,"  John  qualified. 
"  Babbie  Hildreth  remembers  her  promises  all 
right,  and  I'm  sure  you  do." 

"  You're  the  one  that's  likely  not  to  be  able 
to  keep  this  particular  promise,"  said  Babe, 
pinning  the  cairngorm  into  her  blue  tie,  which 
showed  it  off  to  perfection.  "  You  mustn't 
come,  you  know,  unless  you've  finished  your 
work.  College  boys  are  such  dreadful  idlers." 

"  They're  not,"  declared  John  hotly.  "  I'll 
show  you  that  this  one  isn't,  anyhow." 

"All  right,"  laughed  Babe.  "And  I'll 
show  you  that  my  memory  isn't  short.  Then 
we  shall  be  quits  again." 

Babe  wrote  Bob  all  about  the  cairngorm  pin, 
but  she  didn't  mention  it  to  her  traveling 
companions.  Babbie  would  think  she  was 
silly  to  talk  about  it.  She  knew  such  loads 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      151 

of  men,  and  they  were  always  giving  her 
flowers  and  pretty  trinkets.  So  merely  to 
avoid  discussion  Babe  said  nothing  at  all  about 
the  matter,  letting  the  rest  think  that  she  had 
bought  the  pin  herself  as  a  memento  of  her 
dear  Oban. 

"  Nothing  else  will  be  quite  so  nice !  "  she 
sighed  as  the  train  pulled  out  of  the  little  sta- 
tion, and  the  others  all  felt  a  little  the  same 
way, — except  Madeline,  of  course,  who  always 
loved  beginnings. 

"Why  do  we  stay  at  Glasgow  to-night?" 
she  said.  "  We've  done  that  already.  Let's 
take  Mrs.  Hildreth  to  a  farewell  tea  at  Miss 
Jelliff's,  and  then  go  on  to  Balloch.  There's 
an  inn  there  with  the  loveliest  name — Tul- 
lichewan  Inn.  Doesn't  that  sound  quaint  and 
out-of-the-way  ?  Then  we  shall  be  one  station 
further  on  toward  the  Trossachs,  and  we  shan't 
have  to  get  up  so  early  in  the  morning." 

"  That  argument  appeals  to  me,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Hildreth,  and  it  was  settled  to  go  on  to 
Balloch. 

"  What  are  the  Trossachs,  anyway  ?  "  in- 
quired Betty  plaintively.  "  People  have  talked 
to  me  about  the  Trossachs  ever  since  I  knew 


152      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

I  was  coming  to  Scotland,  but  when  I've 
asked  just  what  they  were,  I  never  could  find 
out." 

"  This  guide-book  says  that  the  word  means 
1  bristling  country,'  "  Babbie  explained.  "  All 
the  hills  that  you  coach  over  are  thickly 
wooded.  There  are  lakes,  too,  but  I  guess 
they  haven't  anything  to  do  with  the  name." 

Next  day  Babe  amended  the  definition  to 
"  dripping  country."  Scotch  mists  alternated 
with  unmistakable  showers  all  day,  the  hills 
were  hidden  behind  thick  mantles  of  gray 
fog,  and  the  picturesque  little  lakes  looked 
forlorn  enough,  with  the  big  rain-drops  pat- 
tering down  on  their  placid  waters. 

"  Catechism  for  travelers,"  announced  Babe. 
"  Query  one  :  How  do  you  go  through  the 
Trossachs?  Answer:  In  a  rain.  I  know 
what  you're  going  to  say,  Betty,  but  I've  talked 
to  all  the  people  on  board  who've  been  through 
before  or  who've  had  friends  who've  been 
through,  and  that's  the  correct  answer. 
Query  two  :  What  is  a  Trossach  coach  ? 
Answer  :  A  place  where  everybody's  umbrella 
drips  on  everybody  else  and  pokes  your  hat 
off,  and  you  wish  you  were  snug  at  home  by 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.       153 

the  fire.  Besides,  they  aren't  coaches  at  all ; 
they're  nothing  but  four-seated  mountain- 
wagons.  And  I  thought  coaching  was  going 
to  be  one  of  the  most  glorious  joys  of  the 
summer  !  "  Babe  sighed  and  carefully  emp- 
tied the  water  out  of  the  wrinkles  in  her  ulster. 

But  the  coaching  trip  through  the  English 
lakes  satisfied  Babe's  most  extravagant  antici- 
pations. It  came  after  a  commonplace,  very 
rainy  week  in  Edinburgh,  where  everybody 
was  too  busy  getting  over  colds  caught  in  the 
Trossachs  rain-storm  to  make  any  progress 
with  "  dominant  interests."  It  was  a  lovely, 
sparkling  morning,  and  the  coach  which  was 
to  take  them  from  Keswick  to  Windermere 
was  a  real  coach,  with  seats  inside  for  any  one 
who  was  foolish  enough  to  want  them,  seats 
on  top  which  commanded  a  splended  view  of 
the  pretty  English  country,  and  a  red-coated, 
red-faced  English  coachman  who  dropped  his 
h's  and  cracked  his  long  whip  in  exactly  the 
approved  story-book  fashion.  But  the  most 
exciting  part  of  the  day  came  when  they 
stopped  for  lunch  at  the  little  village  of  Gras- 
mere. 

"  Three  whole   hours  !  "   cried   Babbie  joy- 


154      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

ously.  "Mother  doesn't  feel  like  exploring, 
so  she's  going  to  wait  for  us  at  the  inn.  Have 
lunch  whenever  you're  ready,  mummie.  If 
Wordsworth's  Dove  Cottage  and  the  old  church 
where  he's  buried  are  too  fascinating  we  may 
decide  to  save  time  by  lunching  aboard  the 
coach  on  fruit  and  sweet  chocolate." 

"  I'm  terribly  afraid  Dove  Cottage  will  be 
like  Burns'  birthplace,"  said  Madeline,  as 
they  started  off.  "  Another  maxim  for  travel- 
ers :  Be  cautious  about  poets'  homes.  Any- 
how Wordsworth  never  stayed  in  the  house 
when  he  could  help  it  on  a  day  like  this — 
I'm  sure  he  didn't.  Let's  walk  up  that  fasci- 
nating shady  road  first.  It  looks  as  if  it  led 
to  something  interesting." 

"  Now  Madeline,"  protested  Betty,  "  how 
does  a  road  that  leads  to  something  interesting 
look  different  from  one  that  doesn't  ?  " 

"  How  indeed,  man  from  Cook's  ?  "  Babbie 
joined  her,  and  the  dispute  waxed  so  warm 
that  finally  Madeline  asked  a  little  girl,  who 
was  eyeing  them  shyly  over  a  garden  fence, 
where  this  particular  road  went. 

"Proves  ^y  point,"  she  announced  trium- 
phantly. •  "  11  goes  to  Easdale  Tarn." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.       155 

"  What's  a  tarn  ?  "  asked  Babe.  "  A  lake  ? 
Then  it  doesn't  prove  anything  at  all.  Some 
lakes  are  interesting  and  some  aren't." 

"  Don't  quarrel,  children,"  interposed  Betty. 
"  When  we  get  to  the  tarn  we  can  see  whether 
it's  interesting." 

"  But  who  knows  how  far  it  is  ? "  ob- 
jected Babbie.  "  Have  we  time  to  walk  to 
it?" 

The  small  girl  had  run  off  to  play  by  this 
time,  but  a  little  old  lady  was  pottering  about 
among  the  flowers  in  another  garden,  and  she 
told  the  girls  that  the  tarn  was  only  a  mile 
away  and  showed  them  a  cross-cut  through 
the  meadows. 

Beyond  that  the  road  turned  into  a  path  and 
climbed  up  hills,  and  then  down  again,  but 
mostly  up,  so  that  following  it  was  hot  and 
tiresome  work. 

"  Maybe  I'm  not  hungry,"  sighed  Babe. 
"  Do  you  see  that  comfortable  white  farm- 
house ?  When  we  go  back  let's  stop  there  and 
have  lunch.  They'd  surely  give  us  bread  and 
milk  out  of  pity  for  our  famished  state." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Madeline,  "but  we've 
got  to  hurry  right  along  now." 


156      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Just  then  the  path  curved  sharply,  and 
around  the  turn  they  came  suddenly  upon  an 
elderly  gentleman  who  was  sitting  on  a  big 
stone,  fanning  himself  with  his  Panama  hat. 

"  My  word  ! "  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw 
the  girls.  "  What  in  creation  are  you  young 
ladies  doing  away  off  here  ?  " 

Babbie  was  ahead.  "  Going  to  Easdale 
Tarn,"  she  explained  demurely.  "  This  is 
the  right  road,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Bless  me,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  elderly 
gentleman.  "  Never  heard  of  Easdale  Tarn 
till  you  mentioned  it.  My  doctor  told  me  to 
take  a  walk  every  day,  and  I  chose  this  road 
because  I  happened  to  see  it." 

"  It's  rather  hilly,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Babe,  who 
was  quite  out  of  breath. 

The  gentleman  jumped  up  and  waved  a 
hand  at  his  stone  seat.  "  Sit  down  and  get 
rested,"  he  commanded  so  peremptorily  that 
Babe  obeyed  without  a  word. 

"  You  too."  He  pointed  at  Betty,  who  sank 
down  beside  Babe. 

"  I  admire  your  energy,"  the  old  gentleman 
went  oil  briskly.  "  I  always  admire  energy. 
But  in  this  case  it  also  excites  my  curiosity. 


BETTY  WALES,  B.  A.       157 

Why  are  you  all  so  anxious  to  go  to  Easdale 
Tarn  ?  " 

"  To  find  out  if  it's  interesting,"  explained 
Babe,  and  told  the  whole  story  of  the  dispute 
about  the  road. 

The  old  gentleman  laughed  heartily,  and 
then  he  sighed.  "  Wish  I  could  get  as  excited 
as  that  about  this  milk-and-water  scenery. 
Well,  run  along  and  find  your  tarn, — all  but 
you,"  indicating  Betty.  "  You're  too  tired  to 
go  any  further.  You'd  better  stay  right  here 
with  me  until  the  others  get  back." 

"  I  am  tired,"  admitted  Betty,  blushing 
furiously,  "  but  I  think  I'd  better  go  on.  You 
said  you  were  taking  a  walk,  and  I  don't  want 
to  keep  you " 

"  I  said  my  doctor  told  me  to  take  walks," 
interposed  the  old  gentleman  irascibly.  "  At 
present  I  am  sitting  here  enjoying  the  view, 
or,  to  speak  quite  truthfully,  staring  at  the 
view  without  seeing  it,  and  wishing  I  were 
back  in  New  York." 

"  But  Betty  wants  to  see  the  tarn  too," 
urged  Babe,  who  resented  such  autocratic 
methods.  "  Come  on,  Betty.  You  can  rest 
all  the  afternoon  in  the  coach." 


158      SETTY  WALES,  E.A. 

Betty  half  rose,  hesitated,  and  then  some- 
thing in  the  rather  wistful  smile  that  the  old 
gentleman  gave  her  from  under  his  bushy 
eyebrows  made  her  decide  to  stay. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  am  too  tired  to  enjoy  seeing 
anything  more,  even  if  it's  interesting,"  she 
told  the  girls.  "  So  if  you're  sure  you  won't 
mind  waiting,  sir — it's  rather  lonely  here  to 
stay  alone." 

"  I  assure  you  it  will  be  only  a  pleasure  to 
wait  with  you,"  declared  the  old  gentleman 
with  fine,  old-fashioned  courtesy.  "  Solitary 
walks  are  a  dull  sort  of  amusement." 

So  while  the  rest  went  in  pursuit  of  the 
tarn  Betty  talked  to  the  old  gentleman.  He 
was  traveling  alone,  it  seemed,  for  his  health, 
and  he  hated  traveling,  hated  doctors,  and 
despised  himself  for  having  let  one  of  them 
bundle  him  off  willy-nilly,  like  a  molly- 
coddle old  woman  who  had  nothing  in  the 
world  to  do  but  count  her  pulse  and  worry 
about  her  digestion. 

"  But  don't  you  think  you'd  get  well  faster 
if  you  just  made  up  your  mind  to  it  and  tried 
to  enjoy  things  and  have  a  good  time  ? " 
asked  Betty  timidly. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.       159 

"  That's  what  they  all  say,"  retorted  the  old 
gentleman  savagely.  " '  Make  up  your  mind 
to  it.  Why,  you  ought  to  consider  yourself  a 
lucky  dog  to  be  able  to  go  off  like  this,  chas- 
ing health  around  the  world,  if  necessary. 
How  we  envy  you ! '  Envy !  Well,  they 
needn't."  He  smiled  his  wistful  smile  again. 
"  Fact  is,  when  I  was  young,  I  hadn't  any 
chance  to  play — I  was  too  busy  hustling  to 
pay  for  bread  and  butter  and  an  attic  room. 
Now  I'm  too  old  to  learn.  But  I  like  to  see 
young  people  play  well,  if  they  work  well  too. 
I've  got  a  boy — the  young  rascal — oh,  well, 
you  don't  want  to  hear  me  scold  about  my 
boy.  Tell  me  where  you've  been  and  where 
you're  going  and  why  it  is  that  you  like  your 
Europe  so  well." 

So  he  led  Betty  on  to  tell  him  about  the  go- 
ing-away  party  at  Mary's,  about  the  senator 
and  the  emigrants  and  the  ghost  of  Dunstaif- 
nage  ;  and  they  had  gotten  back  to  the  United 
States  and  Harding  College  again,  before  the 
others  appeared. 

"  My  dear,  I  appreciate  your  staying  to  talk 
with  me,"  he  said  finally.  "  I  had  a  daughter 
once,  but  she  died.  I  should  like  her  to  have 


160      BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

grown  up  to  be  like  you, — or  like  that  little 
tomboy  that  stood  up  to  me  and  insisted  you 
should  go  on  if  you  pleased.  I  couldn't  get 
her  for  a  private  secretary  next  fall,  could  I  ? 
She  wouldn't  cry  if  I  happened  to  find  fault 
with  the  way  she  took  my  dictation." 

Just  then  Babe  herself  appeared,  leading 
the  others. 

"  We  didn't  find  it,"  she  sang  out  cheer- 
fully. "  That  old  lady's  idea  of  a  mile  is  ex- 
aggerated." 

"  We  didn't  dare  go  any  further  for  fear  of 
missing  the  coach  and  worrying  mummie," 
added  Babbie. 

"In  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  village, 
are  you  ?  "  asked  the  old  gentleman.  "  I've 
got  a  car  waiting  for  me  somewhere  down 
there  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  You  can  all 
squeeze  in  for  that  little  distance,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Babe,  "  but  we  were 
going  to  have  lunch  first — bread  and  milk  at 
the  farmhouse  near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  if 
they'll  give  it  to  us.  We've  allowed  time 
for  that,  and  we're  just  perishing  of  hunger. 
Thank  you  just  as  much  about  the  ride." 

"  Bread  and  milk  at  a  farmhouse,"  repeated 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      161 

the  old  gentleman  briskly.  "  I — I  believe 
I'm  hungry  too.  Would  it  be  intrusive " 

"  Oh,  please  do  come,"  said  Betty  eagerly. 
"  I've  made  you  miss  your  lunch  at  the  inn. 
I'm  afraid."  * 

So  the  old  gentleman  scrambled  down  the 
hill  with  Betty  and  Babe,  while  Madeline 
and  Babbie  ran  ahead  to  make  sure  of  the 
luncheon  and  get  the  preparations  for  it  under 
way.  The  bread  and  butter  was  so  good  and 
the  milk  so  creamy,  and  they  all  ate  and 
drank  so  much,  while  the  old  gentleman 
forgot  to  be  annoyed  at  his  unhappy  plight 
and  told  funny  stories  of  his  motoring  ex- 
periences in  France, — neither  he  nor  his 
chauffeur,  it  seemed,  knew  a  word  of  any 
language  but  English, — that  the  time  slipped 
by,  and  when  Babe  thought  to  look  at  her 
watch  it  was  long  past  the  hour  that  she  had 
allotted  to  lunching. 

"  There's  Dove  Cottage  gone !  "  she  an- 
nounced in  tragic  tones.  "  And  when  we 
get  back  to  America  and  people  ask  us  about 
it,  how  we  shall  hate  to  say  we  were  right 
here  and  didn't  take  enough  interest  in  Words- 
worth to  hunt  up  his  house." 


162      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

11  Never  mind,"  Madeline  reassured  her 
cheerfully.  "  We'll  just  inquire  in  a  casual 
way  if  they  saw  Easdale  Tarn,  when  they 
were  here,  and  that  will  settle  them." 

"  The  only  trouble  is  we  didn't  see  it  either," 
matter-of-fact  Betty  reminded  her  sadly. 

The  old  gentleman  was  looking  at  his 
watch  and  muttering  hasty  calculations. 
"You  shall  see  your  Dove  Cottage,"  he  an- 
nounced triumphantly.  "  You  didn't  count 
on  going  back  in  my  car.  Come  along." 

The  next  minute  they  were  tearing  down 
the  Easdale  road  at  a  rate  that  the  old  gentle- 
man smilingly  characterized  as  "about  our 
usual  speed,  and  we've  only  been  arrested 
once  so  far."  When  they  reached  the  cottage 
he  sat  outside  in  the  car,  watch  in  hand, 
ready  to  give  the  signal  for  departure,  and 
at  the  church  he  did  the  same  thing.  Then 
they  whirled  back  to  the  inn,  where  Mrs. 
Hildreth  was  getting  a  little  anxious  about 
them,  though,  as  Babbie  pointed  out,  five 
minutes  before  the  coach  started  was  a  whole 
lot  of  time — you  could  see  all  the  regular 
sights  of  Grasmere  in  five  minutes  if  you  were 
a  good  manager. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.      163 

Betty  and  Babe,  who  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  the  crusty  old  gentleman,  stayed 
behind  the  others  to  say  a  more  extended 
good-bye. 

"  We're  really  very  grateful  to  you,"  Babe 
assured  him  gaily.  "  You've  saved  our  repu- 
tations. But  for  you  the  Grasmere  chapter 
of  '  B.  A.'s  Abroad '  would  have  had  a  dis- 
graceful blank  in  it." 

"  '  B.  A.'s  Abroad,'  " — the  old  gentleman 
turned  to  Betty.  "  That's  the  journal  you 
told  me  about.  B.  A. — Benevolent  Adven- 
turers— that's  what  you've  been  this  morning. 
I  haven't  had  so  good  a  time  since  I  left  New 
York.  Thank  you  all,  and  you  particularly, 
Miss " 

"  Wales,"  supplied  Betty. 

"  Miss  Wales,  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again 
during  the  summer.  I'm  going  back  to 
France,  where  they  have  respectable  roads. 
Good-bye." 

"  You've  got  to  look  out  for  Betty,  mum- 
mie,"  laughed  Babbie,  when  they  were  settled 
again  on  the  coach.  "  All  the  high-and- 
mighty  personages  just  naturally  gravitate 
to  her.  First  there  was  the  senator,  and 


1 64      BETTT   WALES,   B.A. 

now  this  grand  magnate.  Who  was  he, 
Betty?" 

"  He  didn't  tell  me  his  name,  and  I  didn't 
like  to  ask." 

"  He's  certainly  a  person  of  importance," 
declared  Madeline.  "  He  talks  about  New 
York  as  if  he  pretty  nearly  owned  it,  and 
did  you  notice  how  frantically  the  inn  serv- 
ants flew  around  when  he  appeared  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  fly  around  when  he  appeared," 
said  Babe  proudly,  and  was  much  amused 
and  elated  when  Betty  repeated  what  he  had 
said  about  her. 

"  I  think  benevolent  adventures  are  going 
to  turn  out  to  be  Betty's  dominant  interest," 
said  Babe,  after  relating  the  old  gentleman's 
interpretation  of  B.  A.  "  First  there  were  the 
emigrants  and  now  this  old  gentleman.  I 
wonder  whom  you'll  find  next  to  cheer  up." 

Betty  laughed.  "  I  think  that's  a  funny 
kind  of  a  dominant  interest  for  traveling. 
Why,  you  can  be  nice  to  people  just  as  well 
when  you're  at  home." 

"  Well,  you're  elected  to  try  it  a  while 
longer,"  declared  Babbie,  "and  see  how  it 
works.  It's  certainly  been  amusing  so  far. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.       165 

The  very  point  about  a  good  dominant  inter- 
est, you  know,  is  that  it's  queer.  Anybody 
can  take  Gothic  architecture  or  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots,  but  ghosts,  tea-rooms,  chimney-pots, 
and  benevolent  adventures  show  real  origi- 
nality. Girls,  aren't  we  having  a  good  time?  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

BUYING    A    DUKE 

FROM  the  lakes  the  B.  A.'s  traveled  slowly 
and  merrily  to  London,  where  they  estab- 
lished themselves  at  a  quiet  boarding-house 
overlooking  a  pretty  square,  and  plunged  into 
a  mad  delirium  of  sight-seeing  and  shopping. 

"  I  never  felt  pulled  in  so  many  directions 
in  my  life,"  complained  Babe  wearily.  "  The 
shop-windows  are  so  fascinating,  and  things 
are  all  so  cheap,  and  it's  such  fun  paying  for 
them  in  this  comical  English  money." 

"  And  your  friends  will  all  be  so  glad  to 
get  whatever  you  don't  want  for  yourself  be- 
cause it  came  from  abroad,"  put  in  Babbie. 
"  I'm  going  to  do  all  my  Christmas'  shopping 
here  and  in  Paris." 

"Yes,  I  want  to,  too,"  agreed  Babe,  "but 
all  the  time  I'm  in  the  shops  I  keep  thinking 
how  the  places  I've  wanted  to  see  for  ages 
and  perhaps  never  can  see  again  are  all  within 

1 66 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.       167 

a  stone's  throw — well,  within  a  'bus-ride,  if 
3^011  like  that  better,  and  I  decide  to  go  sight- 
seeing with  Madeline.  But  when  you  and 
Mrs.  Hildreth  and  Betty  come  home  at  night 
with  all  your  fascinating  packages  from  Lib- 
erty's and  the  Irish  lace  stores,  why  then  I 
wish  I'd  shopped." 

"  You  can't  have  everything,"  said  Made- 
line sagely.  "  That's  been  my  motto  for 
years,  and  it's  never  so  useful  as  when  I'm 
traveling.  You  don't  enjoy  anything  unless 
you  make  up  your  mind  not  to  worry  about 
the  things  you've  got  to  miss.  I'm  going 
shopping  myself  to-morrow." 

"  I  thought  you  hated  it,"  exclaimed  all  her 
auditors  at  once. 

"  But  this  isn't  any  ordinary  shopping  tour. 
I'm  going  to  buy  Eleanor's  duke — that  is,  if 
the  rest  of  you  will  trust  me  to  pick  him  out." 

"  Of  course  we  will,"  said  Babbie,  "  but  why 
can't  we  all  come,  too,  and  help  ?  " 

"  Babbie,  you  promised  me  you  would  stay 
quietly  at  home  to-morrow  and  rest,"  Mrs. 
Hildreth  reminded  her. 

"  Well,  so  I  will,"  Babbie  gave  up  cheer- 
fully. "  And  Babe  has  a  luncheon  engage- 


168      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

ment  with  the  friend  from  home  that  she 
met  in  the  American  express  office." 

"  Then  Betty  and  I  will  go  duke-hunting," 
said  Madeline.  "  That  suits  me  perfectly. 
Too  many  matchmakers  would  be  fatal.  The 
duke  would  detect  our  eagerness  and  demand 
an  exorbitant  settlement.  Dukes  come  high, 
you  know,  at  best,  so  be  prepared  to  be  gener- 
ous with  your  shillings." 

"  Oh,  Madeline,  do  tell  us  what  you're  go- 
ing to  get,"  begged  Babbie.  But  Madeline 
only  smiled  mysteriously  and  told  Mrs.  Hil- 
dreth  that  she  and  Betty  probably  shouldn't 
be  back  for  luncheon. 

Next  morning  when  they  were  safely  out  of 
ear-shot  she  divulged  her  idea.  "  You  know 
those  pretty  old  Staffordshire  china  figures? 
The  spotted  dogs  are  the  commonest,  but  there 
are  men  and  women,  too.  Oh,  you  must  have 
seen  them,  Betty,  in  the  windows  of  the  an- 
tique shops — shepherdesses  with  looped-up 
skirts,  leaning  on  their  crooks,  and  cute  little 
men  with  lace  ruffles  at  their  wrists  and  pink 
coats  and  silver  knee-buckles.  They  look 
awfully  aristocratic ;  somehow,  I  don't  think 
we  could  get  a  better  duke." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      169 

Betty  hadn't  noticed  anything  of  the  sort, 
so  they  went  a  block  out  of  their  way  down 
Oxford  Street  to  see  some  in  a  shop  that 
Madeline  remembered.  Sure  enough,  the  win- 
dow was  full  of  the  queer  little  china  figures, 
and  there  was  one  that  Betty  declared  was 
just  the  duke  for  Eleanor. 

"  Let's  go  right  in  and  get  it,"  she  urged 
jubilantly.  "  It's  so  quaint  and — oh,  so 
European  somehow.  Eleanor  will  be  per- 
fectly delighted." 

Madeline  laughed  at  her  innocent  en- 
thusiasm. "  We  can't  afford  to  buy  it  here," 
she  warned  her.  "Those  figures  are  dread- 
fully expensive.  In  a  fashionable  neighbor- 
hood like  this  they'd  probably  ask  eight  or 
ten  dollars  for  that  duke.  But  the  other  day 
when  Babe  and  I  were  riding  on  a  'bus  away 
out  toward  Hammersmith  to  see  how  far  you 
could  go  for  fourpence,  I  noticed  a  whole 
cluster  of  antique  shops,  and  I  thought  we 
might  find  a  real  bargain  out  there." 

"  But  this  is  such  a  pretty,  graceful  little 
figure,"  said  Betty  doubtfully.  "  How  much 
are  we  going  to  spend  for  each  of  the  girls  ?  " 

"  The  gargoyles  and  the  photograph  that 


170      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

Helen  wanted  won't  be  over  sixty  cents,  so 
I  suppose  we  ought  to  find  something  at  about 
that  price  for  the  general  present  to  Eleanor 
and  Bob.  Then,  of  course,  we  can  any  of  us 
take  any  of  them  whatever  extra  things  we  like." 

"  Let's  just  ask  about  this  duke,"  urged 
Betty,  who  had  lost  her  heart  to  the  little 
china  figure,  and  couldn't  believe  it  cost  as 
much  as  Madeline  thought. 

But  "  Thirty-five  shillings,"  said  the  pom- 
pous shop-keeper,  and  Betty  had  to  explain 
blushingly  that  she  couldn't  afford  so  much 
that  morning. 

"  That's  eight  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents,"  she  said  dejectedly,  as  they  went  off 
to  find  the  Hammersmith  'bus.  "  We  can't 
ever  get  one  for  sixty  cents,  Madeline.  The 
neighborhood  wouldn't  make  eight  dollars 
difference." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Madeline  easily. 
"  I've  bought  silver  boxes  in  Holland  for 
thirty  cents  and  matched  them  on  Fifth 
Avenue  for  five  dollars.  Anyhow  it  will  be 
fun  hunting." 

It  was  fun.  The  Hammersmith  shops  were 
crowded  with  all  sorts  of  interesting  old 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      171 

odds-and-ends,  the  like  of  which  Betty  had 
never  seen  before.  She  admired  the  glib  way 
in  which  Madeline  chatted  with  the  shop- 
keepers about  strange  things  like  black  Wedg- 
wood, Chippendale  chairs,  and  Flemish  inlay. 
But  when  they  inquired  for  Staffordshire 
figures  no  one  seemed  to  have  any,  or  at  least 
not  any  that  could  pass  for  a  duke.  But 
every  one  was  very  obliging  about  suggesting 
more  shops  to  try,  and  when  that  particular 
neighborhood  was  quite  exhausted  some  one 
sent  the  girls  off  on  what  proved  to  be  a  wild 
goose  chase  to  the  shops  near  Nottinghill 
Gate,  "  where  there  isn't  any  hill  nor  any 
gate,"  as  Betty  explained  later,  in  relating 
the  day's  adventures,  "  so  how  can  you  tell 
when  to  get  off  the  'bus?  " 

And  as  they  couldn't  tell,  they  were 
carried  six  blocks  past  and  had  to  walk  back 
in  the  noonday  heat,  only  to  find  that  the 
biggest  shop,  which  had  been  so  highly 
recommended,  kept  nothing  but  brasses. 

"  We'll  go  in  here,"  said  Madeline,  opening 
the  door  of  a  dusky  little  second-hand  store 
with  an  impatient  jerk,  "  and  if  they  haven't 
what  we  want  we'll  stop.  Yes,  no  matter  if 


172      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

the}'  tell  us  positively  that  a  shop  round  the 
corner  is  packed  tight  with  Staffordshire 
figures,  we  won't  go  to  it.  Instead  we'll  go 
and  get  a  cool  and  luscious  luncheon, — 
though  where  we  can  find  one  in  this  dingy 
neighborhood,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

A  small  girl  with  wisps  of  tow-colored  hair 
falling  over  her  eyes  came  out  from  a  back 
room  to  see  what  they  wanted. 

She  shook  her  head  doubtfully  when  Made- 
line mentioned  Staffordshire.  "  I'm  sure  I 
couldn't  say,  ma'am.  She's  out — the  madame 
is — and  I  couldn't  rightly  say  what  we  have. 
Would  you  know  it  if  you  saw  it?  You 
might  look  about  then." 

So  they  "  looked  about,"  among  the  curious 
agglomeration  of  mirrors,  candlesticks,  lustre 
jugs,  cameos,  and  time-stained  engravings,  all 
standing  in  dusty  disarray  on  top  of  Queen 
Anne  sideboards,  carved  centre  tables,  and 
beautiful  old  Sheraton  writing-desks  with  se- 
cret compartments,  that  set  Betty,  who  was  hav- 
ing her  first  taste  of  the  delights  of  antique- 
hunting,  wild  with  delight.  But  though  they 
poked  into  every  nook  and  corner,  no 
Staffordshire  figures  came  to  light. 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      173 

"  Well,  we  shall  have  to  give  it  up,"  said 
Madeline  dejectedly.  "  How  much  is  that 
lustre  pitcher,  please — the  fat  little  one  with 
the  roses  in  the  border  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  confessed  the  little 
maid  sadly.  "  You  see  very  few  comes  here 
in  the  morning,  and  it's  so  very  difficult  re- 
membering the  prices,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  dear  I  "  Madeline  wanted  the  fat  little 
pitcher  all  the  more  now  that  she  couldn't 
have  it.  "  When  will  the  owner  of  the  shop 
be  back,  do  you  think?  " 

"  Oh,  I  really  couldn't  say,  ma'am.  In  an 
hour  perhaps,  and  maybe  not  till  time  for  tea. 
You  see  it's  Friday,  and  she's  gone  to  market. 
But  she  went  early  to-day,  so  she  might  be 
back  early." 

"  But  does  it  ever  take  her  all  day  to  do  the 
family  marketing?  "  asked  Madeline  curiously. 

"  Oh,  it's  not  for  the  family,  ma'am  ;  it's  for 
the  shop  she's  buying.  Everybody  goes  to  the 
market  on  Fridays." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  everybody  ?  " 

"  Why,  all  the  dealers  in  London,  ma'am. 
The  madame  buys  almost  everything  there. 
Things  go  very  cheap  there,  you  see.  It's  a 


i74      BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

pity  she  didn't  know  what  you  were  wanting, 
or  she'd  have  found  it  for  you  this  morning. 
You  can  find  almost  anything  at  the  market 
if  you  look  sharp." 

"  I  suppose  you  couldn't  tell  us  how  to  get 
there?  "  inquired  Madeline  tentatively. 

Oh,  yes  she  could  ;  any  one  in  London  could 
do  that.  It  was  the  Caledonian  market,  you 
understand.  First  you  took  the  Underground 
to  King's  Cross,  and  then  you  took  the  'bus  to 
Market  Road,  and  any  one  would  tell  you 
where  to  get  down.  And  after  that  it  was 
just  a  step  to  the  market. 

"  What  a  find  !  "  Madeline  caught  Betty's 
arm  as  soon  as  they  were  outside,  and  fairly 
danced  her  down  the  street.  "  We  shall  get 
all  sorts  of  bargains  in  dukes  there,  and  then 
it's  such  a  lovely  stunt  hunting  them  along 
with  all  the  dealers  in  London.  We'll  buy 
some  fruit  and  eat  it  on  the  Underground. 
Where  is  the  Underground,  I  wonder?  She 
said  everybody  went  there  Friday  mornings. 
Should  you  think  it  would  close  at  twelve  or 
at  one?" 

Of  course  Betty  hadn't  the  least  idea.  In 
fact  she  couldn't  quite  see  what  there  was  to 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      175 

be  so  excited  about,  but  as  usual  she  took 
Madeline's  word  for  it. 

"  Markets  are  great,"  Madeline  explained 
when  they  had  at  last  found  the  Underground. 
"  I've  been  to  the  rag-fair  in  Rome  and  the 
Christmas-sale  in  Paris,  and  they  were  both 
no  end  of  fun.  Some  one  told  father  about 
a  big  market  in  London,  but  he  never  could 
find  it.  Won't  he  be  envious  when  I  bring 
out  my  trophies  !  " 

When  they  got  into  the  'bus  for  Market 
Road  nearly  every  other  passenger  was  laden 
with  a  big  basket. 

"  They're  going  to  market,  too,"  Madeline 
nudged  Betty.  "  So  we're  not  hopelessly  late 
after  all." 

When  they  had  turned  in  at  the  big  gates 
Betty  stared  about  her  in  amazement.  The 
vast  open  space  was  thronged  with  a  laughing, 
chattering  crowd  of  buyers.  But  above  the 
noise  they  made  rose  the  strident  cries  of  the 
marketmen. 

"  Penny  a  mar-r-r-ket  bunch  I  " 

"  Whatever-you-like  at  yer  own  price." 

"  Rusty  nails  !     Rusty  na-ils  !  " 

It  took  time  to  disentangle  even  those  few 


176      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

cries  from  the  multitude  of  strange  announce- 
ments. 

"  Who  would  want  rusty  nails  ?  "  demanded 
Betty. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  there  they  are — pounds 
and  pounds  of  them.  Somebody  must  want 
them  or  they  wouldn't  be  here.  Isn't  it  fun  hav- 
ing everything  spread  out  on  the  ground  ?  " 

"  Literally  everything,"  laughed  Betty. 
"Books  and  china  and  second-hand  calico 
wrappers,  and — yes,  Madeline,  second-hand 
tooth-brushes,  right  next  to  that  lovely  inlaid 
furniture." 

"  And  there's  a  Persian  kitten,"  added 
Madeline.  "  Poor  little  pussy  I  She  looks 
frightened  half  to  death." 

"  And  hats  and  furs,"  put  in  Betty. 

11  And  jewelry.  Betty,  I'll  buy  you  a  penny 
pin  as  a  memento.  Choose." 

Betty  chose  a  brooch  consisting  of  a  very 
realistic  red  raspberry  and  two  green  leaves. 
"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  and  isn't  that  a 
lustre-ware  pitcher  ?  " 

It  was,  and  it  was  in  the  collection  of  a  man 
who  was  crying,  "  Whatever-ye-like  at  yer  own 
price,"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      177 

"  A  shilling,"  Madeline  offered  boldly, 
pointing  to  the  pitcher. 

"  Three,"  retorted  the  man  decisively. 

"But  you  just  said,  '  Whatever  you  like 
at  your  own  price/ '  Madeline  reminded 
him. 

The  man  winked  cheerfully.  "  Any  of  this 
rubbish,  ma'am,  I  mean."  He  picked  up  a 
handful  of  the  rusty  nails.  "  You  want  only 
the  good  things.  The  pitcher's  a  bargain  at 
three  bob." 

"Have  you  any  Staffordshire  figures?" 
asked  Madeline. 

The  man  rummaged  in  a  basket  and  pro- 
duced two  little  white  lambs,  each  standing 
on  a  hillock  of  green  grass. 

"  Oh,  how  cunning,"  murmured  Betty.  "  I 
simply  must  have  those." 

"  Then  don't  act  too  anxious,  or  he'll  put 
the  price  away  up,"  Madeline  whispered. 

"  You  buy  them,"  Betty  whispered  back. 

"  We  wanted  a  man's  figure,"  explained 
Madeline  nonchalantly.  "  You  haven't  any  ? 
Then  I  guess  that's  all.  How  much  are  the 
lambs?" 

"Thrippence." 


178      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  I'll  take  them,"  cried  Betty  before  Made- 
line could  answer. 

The  man  looked  amusedly  from  one  to  the 
other.  "  You  mustn't  quarrel  over  the  baa- 
lambs, ladies." 

"  Oh,  we  won't."  Betty  held  out  her  money. 
"  Madeline,  look  !  " 

A  wizened,  grizzled  little  Jew,  whose  wares 
were  spread  out  next  to  those  of  the  owner  of 
the  "  baa-lambs,"  had  overheard  their  conver- 
sation with  his  rival  and  was  holding  out  a 
figure,  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  one  in  the 
Oxford  Street  shop.  Madeline  pinched  Betty 
to  remind  her  not  to  appear  over-anxious. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  indifferently,  holding 
out  her  hand  for  the  little  figure  and  exam- 
ining it  carefully  for  cracks  or  nicks.  "  But 
now  that  we've  bought  the  lambs  I  don't 
know — how  much  is  this  ?  " 

"  Five  bob,  and  you  can't  find  another  such 
bargain  in  London,"  the  dealer  assured  her 
eagerly. 

"  What's  a  bob?  "  whispered  Betty. 

"A  shilling,"  Madeline  explained.  Then 
she  turned  to  the  dealer.  "  Make  it  two  and 
six." 


'FOUR  AND  SIX!" 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.      179 

"  Four  and  six,"  he  compromised. 

Madeline  shook  her  head  severely.  "  If 
you'd  said  three  and  six  I  might  have  con- 
sidered it.  Come  on,  Betty." 

Betty  stared  in  amazement.  Was  Made- 
line— yes,  she  was  actually  walking  off.  She 
was  going  to  leave  that  lovely  duke.  But  just 
as  Madeline  turned  the  corner,  the  little  dealer 
jumped  up,  the  figure  in  one  hand  and  a  scrap 
of  crumpled  paper  in  the  other,  and  with  a 
bound  he  was  at  Madeline's  elbow. 

"  Have  it  for  three  and  six,"  he  whispered 
confidentially. 

"  Oh,  very  well."  Madeline  accepted  the 
bundle  nonchalantly. 

"  Hallo,  Madeline.  What  have  you  done 
him  out  of  now  ?  "  Dick  Blake  was  standing 
in  front  of  them,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 
"  I  thought  you'd  be  here  to-day,"  he  went 
on.  "I  had  a  '  leading,'  as  we  used  to  say  in 
Paris  when  we  wanted  to  do  a  silly  thing,  that 
if  I  came  up  here  I  should  lose  all  the  Amer- 
icans but  you.  How  do  you  like  marketing 
with  Madeline,  Miss  Wales  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Dick,  it's  jolly  fun  seeing  you.  But 
what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here?  " 


i8o      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

"  Pursuing  you,"  explained  Dick  cheerfully. 
"  Didn't  I  just  say  so  ?  When  I'm  not  pur- 
suing you,  I'm  pursuing  a  magnate.  He's 
more  elusive, — or  at  least  I  don't  know  his 
habits  so  well,  and  up  to  date  I  haven't  found 
him.  But  I  take  my  success  with  you  to  be 
a  good  omen.  I'm  sure  I  shall  spot  my  mag- 
nate before  long." 

11  Please  talk  sense,  Dick." 

"  I  am,"  he  assured  her  solemnly.  "  You 
see  it's  this  way.  New  York  was  hot  and 
stupid,  with  everybody  gone  who  could  man- 
age to  get  away,  and  I  wanted  to  go,  too.  But 
'  The  Quiver '  hasn't  been  exactly  booming 
lately,  and  I  couldn't  afford  a  nice  trip." 

"  Meaning  a  trip  to  Europe,"  interposed 
Madeline. 

"  Exactly,"  Dick  took  her  up.  "  So  I  was 
feeling  awfully  blue,  and  then  a  week  ago  to- 
night my  old  chief  down  in  Newspaper  Row 
'phoned  and  said,  '  Dickie,  you're  the  best 
hunter  we  ever  had.  Go  to  Europe  and  find 
an  elusive  magnate,  whose  mysterious  absence 
is  upsetting  Wall  Street  prices,'  and  I  said, 
'  Done,'  and  made  up '  The  Quiver  '  for  two 
mouths  ahead,  and  here  I  am.  I  got  to  Liver- 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      181 

pool  last  night  and  to  London  this  morning, 
and  so  far  I've  ascertained  that  the  Elusive 
Magnate  aforesaid  isn't  staying  at  any  of  the 
likely  hotels." 

"  Dick,  you  are  too  absurd,"  laughed  Made- 
line. "  What's  your  magnate's  name  ?  " 

"  Morton — Jasper  Jones  Morton.  Haven't 
seen  him,  have  you?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance. 
Have  you,  Betty?" 

Betty  shook  her  head  smilingly. 

"  I've  got  his  picture  here  somewhere." 
Dick  felt  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  cabi- 
net photograph.  "  He's  not  exactly  hand- 
some and  he's  never  gone  in  for  society,  but 
he's  really  very  well-to-do,  and  when  he  sud- 
denly departs  for  the  first  vacation  of  his  long 
and  useful  life,  just  when  his  railroads  are  in 
a  good  deal  of  a  muddle  and  several  of  his 
corporations  are  being  sued  by  Uncle  Sam, 
why,  naturally  Wall  Street  sits  up  and  takes 
notice."  He  passed  the  picture  to  Madeline. 

"  Why,  Betty,  it's  our  magnate,"  she  cried 
laughingly,  and  Betty,  looking  at  the  picture 
over  her  shoulder,  gave  a  little  shriek  of  de- 
light. "  It  is,"  she  cried. 


182       BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

Dick  looked  in  amazement  from  one  to  the 
other.  "  I  say,  have  you  really  met  him  ?  " 
he  demanded.  "  Where  was  he,  and  which 
way  was  he  headed  ?  He  didn't  drop  any  hints 
about  his  reasons  for  being  over  here,  did  he  ?  " 

Madeline  looked  at  Betty.  "  You  talked  to 
him  most." 

"  Do  you  mean  did  he  say  whether  he  is 
over  here  just  on  a  vacation  for  his  health  ?  " 
asked  Betty. 

Dick  nodded,  and  she  repeated  Mr.  Jasper 
Jones  Morton's  anathemas  against  vacations, 
doctors,  and  European  travel.  "  I'm  sure  he 
was  telling  the  truth,"  she  added  earnestly. 
"  He  said  it  all  as  if  he  meant  it, — he  couldn't 
have  been  making  up." 

"  Having  conversed  with  him  about  other 
things  he  doesn't  like,  I  catch  your  point," 
chuckled  Dick.  "  J.  J.  Morton's  earnest  hatred 
is  very  earnest  indeed."  Then  he  grew  sober 
suddenly.  "  I  wonder  where's  the  nearest 
place  to  cable  from.  I  must  get  this  off  at 
once.  Miss  Wales,  you've  done  me  the  best 
kind  of  a  good  turn.  You  don't  mind  my 
taking  your  story,  do  you,  since  you  haven't 
any  possible  use  for  it  ?  " 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      183 

"  Mr.  Morton  won't  mind,  will  he?  "  asked 
Betty  anxiously.  "  He  was  awfully  nice  to  us, 
and  it  would  be  mean  to  take  advantage  of  him." 

"  No,"  said  Dick,  "  I  honestly  don't  think 
he'll  mind.  I  don't  believe  he  wants  the 
market  to  go  to  smash  on  his  account.  And 
to  me  it  means — well,  I  haven't  been  here  a 
day  yet ;  and  the  chief  gave  me  a  week  to  find 
him  and  get  an  interview.  So  it  means  the 
biggest  kind  of  a  big  beat,  Miss  Wales,  and 
that  means  a  juicy  fee  and  a  juicy  fee 

means "  Dick  stopped  suddenly,  bit  his 

lip,  and  then  laughed.  "  I  didn't  use  to  be  so 
mercenary,  did  I,  Madeline  ?  Then  I  have 
your  consent,  Miss  Wales  ?  Are  you  girls 
coming  back  with  me?  " 

For  the  first  part  of  the  long  ride  Dick 
Blake  was  silent,  his  face  puckered  into  deep 
wrinkles  of  thought.  All  at  once  he  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed  merrily.  "  I've 
got  it,"  he  said,  "  head-lines  and  all.  Now  we 
can  talk.  What  did  you  do  the  little  Jew  out 
of,  Madeline?" 

"  Oh,  we  were  buying  a  duke  for  Eleanor 
Watson,"  explained  Madeline  tantalizingly. 
"  She  wants  one,  you  know." 


1 84      BETTY   WALES,   B.  A  . 

The  worried  look  came  back  to  Dick's  fine 
gray  eyes.  "  Go  slow,  Madeline.  You  were 
buying Eleanor  wants  a  duke  ?  " 

Madeline  took  pity  on  him  and  unwrapped 
the  dainty  figurine,  which  Dick  duly  ad- 
mired. 

"  By  the  way,  Miss  Wales,"  he  began  sud- 
denly, "  you  don't  know  where  Jasper  J.  went 
from  Grasmere,  I  suppose." 

Betty  repeated  what  the  old  gentleman  had 
said  about  the  superiority  of  French  roads. 

"  Then  I  suppose  I'd  better  cross  the  chan- 
nel to-night,"  sighed  Dick,  "  and  here's  where 
I  leave  this  'bus.  Wish  I  could  go  home 
with  you  and  see  the  rest  of  the  '  Merry 
Hearts  '  and  have  a  good  talk.  Good-bye,  Miss 
Wales.  So  long,  Madeline.  See  you  again 
somewhere  over  here."  And  he  was  gone. 

"  Well,"  Madeline  told  the  others,  when 
they  reached  home,  "  we've  got  the  duke  and 
he's  a  darling,  and  we've  found  out  the  name 
of  the  Grasmere  magnate,  and  Betty's  been 
being  a  B.  A.  again — to  whom  in  the  world  do 
you  guess,  but  Dick  Blake.  It  will  be  in  all 
the  New  York  papers  to-morrow  morning. 
How's  that  for  a  strenuous  day  of  it?  " 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   GAY    GHOSTS   OF    LONDON 

"  TO-DAY'S  the  third,  isn't  it?"  observed 
Babe  carelessly  the  next  morning  at  break- 
fast. "  I  believe  I'll  stay  at  home  and  write 
some  letters." 

Babbie,  who  was  sitting  by  the  window, 
happened  to  glance  out  at  the  street  just  then. 
"  You  needn't,"  she  announced  calmly.  "  He's 
arriving  this  very  minute  in  a  hansom." 

"Who  is  arriving,  Babbie?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hildreth.  Whereupon  Babbie  assured  her 
that  she  was  utterly  disqualified  as  a  com- 
petent chaperon  ;  she  ought  to  have  grasped 
the  connection  between  John  Morton  and 
Babe's  mad  desire  to  write  letters  without  any 
help  at  all. 

John  was  in  high  spirits.  "  Hope  you've 
noticed  that  I'm  exactly  on  time,"  he  told 
Babe  in  a  confidential  aside.  "  Old  Dwight 
nearly  passed  away  with  surprise  when  he 

185 


186      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

saw  me  settling  down  to  a  good  steady  grind. 
It's  queer  how  people  always  think  that  if  a 
fellow  doesn't  work  it's  because  he  hasn't 
brains  enough.  Old  Dwight  said  he  actually 
envied  me  my  clear  and  logical  mind.  I  told 
him  to  tell  that  to  dad,  and  he  did — wrote  a 
corking  letter  all  about  me  and  my  industry 
and  my  marvelous  progress.  I  can't  wait  to 
get  dad's  answer." 

"  He'll  be  sure  to  be  awfully  pleased,"  said 
Babe  sympathetically.  "  I'm  pleased  too. 
If  you  hadn't  finished  in  time  I  should  have 
given  you  back  your  pin.  I  wouldn't  take 
a  pin  from  a  shirk." 

"  Are  you  going  to  escort  us  out  to  see  the 
sights  of  London,  John  ?  "  asked  Babbie. 

"  Of  course.  That's  why  I  came  around  so 
early,  before  you'd  had  a  chance  to  get  started 
off  without  me  on  a  picnic  or  a  ghost-hunt  or 
any  other  interesting  festivity.  What  shall 
we  do  first?" 

"Oh,  let's  have  a  ghost-hunt!"  cried 
Babbie  eagerly.  "  We  haven't  paid  the  least 
speck  of  attention  to  ghosts  since  we  left 
Oban.  I  can't  have  my  dominant  interest 
so  neglected." 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      187 

"  All  right,"  agreed  John.  "  Only  it  isn't 
moonlight,  and  we  should  probably  be  '  taken 
in  charge,'  as  the  police  say  over  here,  if  we 
made  a  sheeted  ghost  walk  in  London." 

"  Then  how  are  we  going  to  have  a  ghost- 
party  ?  "  asked  Betty.  "  Madeline,  think  up 
a  way." 

Madeline  considered.  "  First,  we've  got 
to  choose  our  ghosts — there  are  such  quanti- 
ties in  London.  Then  we  must  seek  out  their 
haunts  and  conjure  them  to  appear.  If  they 
won't,  we  shall  have  to  go  back  some  evening, 
and  try  again  by  moonlight.  Let's  each  write 
the  name  of  our  favorite  London  ghost  on  a 
slip  of  paper.  Babbie  can  draw  one,  because 
ghosts  are  her  dominant  interest,  and  then 
we'll  all  start  out  in  pursuit." 

This  arrangement  suited  everybody,  and 
Madeline  hunted  up  pencils  and  paper.  She 
wrote  the  name  of  her  favorite  ghost  without 
an  instant's  consideration,  but  the  others 
had  to  think  hard,  and  Babe  was  caught 
slyly  consulting  a  London  Baedeker.  John 
chewed  his  pencil  in  solemn  silence  until 
the  rest  were  through.  Then  all  at  once 
he  banged  the  table  triumphantly  with  his 


188      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

fist,  scribbled  a  name  on  his  slip,  and  handed 
it  to  Madeline,  who  was  acting  as  mistress  of 
ceremonies. 

"You'd  better  choose  my  ghost,  Babbie," 
he  announced.  "  If  you  do,  I  invite  you 
all  to  have  luncheon  with  me  at  an  appro- 
priate place." 

"  It's  not  fair  offering  bribes,"  cried  Babe. 
"  My  ghost  did  that,  and  it  got  him  into  a 
horrible  scrape." 

"  My  ghost  is  a  lady,"  said  Betty.  I  think  she 
deserves  some  consideration  on  that  account." 

"  The  special  advantage  of  mine,"  put  in 
Madeline,  "  is  that  his  haunts  are  miles  away 
from  here.  Think  of  the  lovely  long  'bus  ride 
we  could  have." 

"  Mine  is  both  a  lady  and  a  royal  person- 
age," said  Babbie  impressively,  "  so  she  really 
ought  to  come  in  ahead  of  any  of  yours.  But 
I'm  going  to  be  perfectly  fair  ;  I'll  draw  out 
a  slip  with  my  eyes  shut.  Dr.  Samuel  John- 
son wins,"  she  announced  a  minute  later. 

"  And  he's  mine  !  "  cried  John.  "  Now  re- 
member, everybody,  the  meal-tickets  are  to  be 
on  me.  Did  you  girls  ever  hear  of  the 
'  Cheshire  Cheese  '  ?  " 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.       189 

No  one  had  but  Madeline. 

"  What  ignorance  !  "  laughed  John,  and 
then  confessed  that  he  never  had  heard  of  it 
either,  until  Mr.  Dwight  mentioned  it  the 
night  before.  "  It  seems  it  was  quite  a  haunt 
of  old  Dr.  Johnson's,"  he  explained.  "  It's 
a  queer  little  eating-house  just  off  Fleet  Street. 
You  girls  may  not  like  it,  but  if  you  don't 
we  needn't  stay." 

Babbie's  ghost  was  Queen  Victoria,  Betty's 
Becky  Sharp,  Madeline's  Carlyle,  and  Babe's 
Lord  Bacon. 

"  What  a  collection  !  "  laughed  Madeline. 
"  Perhaps  we  can  take  in  some  of  the  others 
on  our  way  to  the  '  Cheshire  Cheese.'  Hand 
me  the  Baedeker  please,  Babe." 

But  John  objected.  "  We've  got  to  make 
perfectly  sure  of  Dr.  Johnson  first,"  he  said 
firmly.  "  What's  the  use  of  choosing  a  ghost 
if  you  don't  keep  to  him  ?  Besides,  remem- 
ber, I  got  down  here  only  late  last  evening. 
If  we  have  any  extra  time,  I  want  to  go  and 
register  my  address  at  the  American  Express 
office  and  get  my  mail.  I'm  expecting  an 
important  letter."  John  looked  at  Babe  im- 
pressively. 


I9o      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

After  much  lively  discussion  it  was  voted 
to  walk  to  the  "  Cheshire  Cheese,"  or  at  least 
to  walk  until  some  one  got  tired.  It  would 
be  so  much  more  convenient  for  showing  John 
the  sights.  And,  as  Madeline  observed,  pretty 
nearly  everything  in  London  is  a  sight  in  one 
way  or  another,  so  that  it  was  really  lunch- 
time  when  John  and  Babe,  who  were  ahead, 
suddenly  turned  down  a  dark  little  alley  and 
waited  at  the  corner  for  the  rest  to  come  up. 

"  Is  the  '  Cheshire  Cheese  '  in  here  ?  "  asked 
the  fastidious  Babbie  doubtfully.  "  Well, 
this  certainly  looks  like  a  splendid  place  for 
ghosts,"  she  added,  diving  down  the  alley 
after  the  others. 

John  pointed  ahead  to  the  quaint  old 
swinging  sign  that  read  "  Ye  Old  Cheshire 
Cheese."  It  was  a  tiny  little  inn,  the  one 
small  dining-room  opening  right  on  to  the 
street.  A  waiter  came  bustling  forward  to 
meet  the  party. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  John  gravely,  look- 
ing inquiringly  around  the  room.  "  Which 
is  Dr.  Johnson's  chair,  please  ?  " 

The  waiter  bowed  and  pointed  to  a  seat  in 
one  corner  against  the  wall. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      191 

"  Oh,  I  see,  he's  not  here  yet,"  said  John 
solemnly.  "  We  were  hoping  to  find  him. 
Well,  I  suppose  we'd  better  sit  down  and  have 
something  to  eat  while  we  wait."  He  led  the 
way  to  the  doctor's  table. 

The  waiter,  wearing  a  perplexed  expression, 
pulled  out  the  chairs, — John  insisting  that 
Dr.  Johnson's  seat  should  be  left  vacant, — and 
recited  the  menu  for  the  day. 

"  Which  are  the  Doctor's  favorite  dishes?  " 
John  asked  him. 

"  Hi  really  couldn't  say,  sir."  The  waiter's 
tone  was  full  of  mild  reproach.  "  The  lark- 
pie  his  our  special  dish,  sir,  and  the  stewed 
cheese  his  hexcellent  heatin'  and  a  general 
favorite." 

"  Then  we'll  have  those,  shan't  we,  girls?  " 
asked  John.  "  And  bring  enough  for  Dr. 
Johnson,  in  case  he  should  look  in,"  he  added 
gravely,  and  the  waiter  went  off,  shaking  his 
head  and  murmuring  something  about  "  those 
mad  Hamericans." 

"  I  want  to  sit  in  Dr.  Johnson's  chair," 
complained  Babbie,  when  he  had  gone. 
"  There's  no  sense  in  saving  a  place  for  a  ghost, 
John.  Don't  you  know  that  they  can  sit 


192      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

where  there  is  somebody  just  as  well  as  where 
there  isn't?" 

"  That  may  be,"  admitted  John.  "  But  I 
consider  that  it's  more  respectful.  Speaking 
of  ghosts,  is  that  the  ghost  of  Billy  Benson 
that  I  see  before  me,  or  is  it  Billy  in  person  ?  " 

John  tumbled  his  chair  over  in  his  eager- 
ness to  get  to  the  door  and  wring  the  hand  of 
a  tall,  broad-shouldered  youth,  who  seemed 
just  as  delighted  to  see  John  as  John  was  to 
see  him.  He  had  a  friend  with  him,  whom 
John  evidently  did  not  know,  for  presently 
Billy  remembered  him  and  summarily  pulled 
him  forward  to  be  introduced.  Then  the 
three  came  over  to  the  girls'  table. 

"  May  I  present  Mr.  William  Benson  ? " 
John  began.  "  Best  fellow  in  the  world, 
Billy  is.  Rooms  in  my  hall  at  Harvard. 
And  this  is  Mr.  Trevelyan,  a  friend  of  Billy's." 

Mr.  Trevelyan  was  several  years  older  than 
John  or  Billy.  He  was  tall,  dark,  and  slen- 
der, with  a  distinguished  manner,  queer,  near- 
sighted gray  eyes  that  were  slightly  out  of 
focus,  making  it  hard  to  tell  just  where  he 
was  looking,  and  a  very  peculiar  way  of  speak- 
ing— it  was  difficult  to  decide  whether  he  had 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      193 

a  slight  foreign  accent  or  an  impediment  in 
his  speech. 

"  You  fellows  will  join  us,  won't  you  ? " 
asked  John  hospitably.  "  Mr.  Trevelyan,  you 
can  have  Dr.  Johnson's  seat,  and  Billy,  you 
can  be  Boswell  and  squeeze  in  somewhere,  I'm 
sure." 

But  Mr.  Trevelyan  demurred  politely. 
"  You  have  found  friends,"  he  told  Billy.  "  I 
insist  that  you  let  me  withdraw." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  said  John  decisively,  and 
when  Babbie  seconded  the  invitation,  Mr. 
Trevelyan  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  to 
stay. 

"  You  see  the  Doctor  did  come,"  John  an- 
nounced triumphantly  to  the  waiter,  when 
that  functionary  reappeared  with  the  lark-pie 
and  stewed  cheese.  "  And  Boswell  is  with 
him,  so  you'd  better  bring  us  something 
extra." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  smiling 
condescendingly  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
"  Hamericans,"  and  Babbie  overheard  a  rosy- 
cheeked  English  girl  at  the  next  table  say  she 
did  wish  people  wouldn't  persist  in  treating 
England  as  if  it  were  a  queer,  old-fashioned 


194      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

toy  that  it  was  fun  to  spend  your  summers 
playing  with. 

"  Come,  John,  you  mustn't  tease  that  poor 
waiter  any  more,"  she  commanded.  "  Mr. 
Trevelyan  and  Mr.  Benson  don't  even  know 
why  you're  doing  it." 

So  John  explained  to  his  guests  that  they 
had  unwittingly  joined  a  ghost-hunt,  and  then 
the  girls  told  about  the  Dunstaffnage  ghost, 
and  Mr.  Trevelyan  followed  their  story  up 
with  an  account  of  a  ghost  he  had  seen  in  the 
Australian  cattle-country. 

He  was  an  Australian,  he  explained,  and 
John,  who  was  tremendously  interested  in 
queer,  out-of-the-way  places,  kept  him  busy 
telling  his  experiences  in  the  bush  all  through 
luncheon.  He  told  his  stories  so  well  that 
every  one  else  stopped  talking  to  listen,  and 
they  sat  over  their  luncheon  long  after  every 
one  else  had  left. 

"  Goodness,  but  you've  had  an  interesting 
life,  Mr.  Trevelyan,"  said  Madeline,  when 
they  finally  rose  to  go.  "  Aren't  you  crazy  to 
get  back  to  Australia  ?  Everything  else  must 
seem  tame  after  that." 

Mr.  Trevelyan  bowed  gravely  in  acknowl- 


BETTY   WALES,  E.  A.      195 

edgment  of  her  interest.  "  I  shall  not  go  back 
at  present.  My  widowed  sister  and  I  are 
planning  to  settle  down  near  Paris.  We  have 
bought  a  house,  and  she  is  already  in  France, 
visiting  a  friend.  As  soon  as  I  have  finished 
a  little  business  that  I  have  here  I  shall  join 
her  and  we  will  set  up  housekeeping.  And 
now  I  must  really  leave  you.  I  have  a  busi- 
ness engagement." 

"All  right,  old  man,"  said  Billy  gaily. 
"  Only  don't  forget  to  turn  up  for  dinner  and 
the  theatre." 

"  Unless  you  wish  to  postpone "  began 

Mr.  Trevelyan. 

"  No,  indeed,"  Billy  assured  him.  "  Per- 
haps Morton  will  join  us.  His  hotel  is  near 
ours." 

Mr.  Trevelyan  murmured  something  about 
its  being  a  great  pleasure  to  have  met  them 
all  and  hurried  away. 

"  Isn't  he  great  ?  "  said  Billy  eagerly.  "  He's 
the  most  modest  fellow  you  ever  saw.  Never 
mentions  his  own  part  in  all  those  woolly 
Australian  tales  until  you  quiz  him,  and  then 
you  find  he  was  '  it '  every  time.  Now  I  hap- 
pen to  know  that  his  sister  is  visiting  a 


196      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

countess,  but  you  notice  he  was  careful  to  say 
just  '  a  friend.' ' 

"  If  he'd  said  a  countess  it  would  have  been 
blowing,"  said  John  decidedly.  "  No  nice 
fellow  would  have  lugged  in  the  countess  in  that 
connection.  How'd  you  meet  him,  Billy?" 

"  On  the  street,"  laughed  Billy.  "  He  asked 
me  the  way  to  the  Army  and  Navy  Club. 
When  I  told  him,  he  noticed  I  was  an  Amer- 
ican, of  course " 

"  Oh,  come  off,  Billy,"  John  broke  in. 
"  He'd  know  that  the  minute  he  set  eyes  on 
you." 

"  He  didn't  know  it  till  I  spoke,"  persisted 
Billy.  "  You  see  he  doesn't  belong  here — 
hasn't  been  in  London  before  for  fifteen  years. 
Well,  anyhow  he  said  he  was  glad  an  Ameri- 
can could  tell  him  what  he'd  asked  half  a 
dozen  Englishmen  who  couldn't.  Then  we 
walked  on  together  a  bit,  and  found  we  were 
both  traveling  alone  and  seeing  the  sights, 
and  I  asked  him  to  meet  me  for  dinner.  Then 
we  went  to  the  Tower  together,  and  out  to 
Kew  Gardens,  and  then  he  moved  to  my  hotel 
and  we  rather  joined  forces.  He's  an  awfully 
good  sort. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      197 

"  I  don't  doubt  that  he  is,"  agreed  John 
heartily. 

"  The  way  he  speaks  interests  me,"  said 
Madeline.  "  Was  he  born  in  England  ?  Were 
his  parents  both  English,  do  you  know  ?  " 

Billy  nodded.  "  Australians  get  to  speak- 
ing queerly,  he  says." 

"  Very  likely,"  agreed  Madeline,  "  but  I 
should  have  been  almost  positive  that  he  was 
French." 

"  He  lisps,"  declared  Babe.  "  That's  one 
thing  that  adds  to  the  queerness  of  his  talk. 
Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  next?  " 

"  We  might  pursue  the  ghost  of  Dr.  John- 
son to  his  grave  in  Westminster  Abbey,"  sug- 
gested Madeline.  "  Graveyards  are  the  logical 
places  to  hunt  ghosts  in,  I  suppose." 

But  John  objected.  "  The  very  reason  I 
chose  Dr.  Johnson  was  so  we  wouldn't  have 
to  go  to  any  musty  old  churchyards.  I 
haven't  any  use  for  them  or  for  picture-gal- 
leries. Let's  go  up  to  the  American  Express 
Office,  and  by  that  time  it  will  be  late  enough 
to  pursue  your  specialty,  Miss  Ayres,  and 
drink  tea  somewhere." 

Billy  Benson  accepted  with  alacrity  an  in- 


198      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

vitation  to  join  the  tea-party.  On  the  way  to 
the  Express  Office  he  told  Babbie  something 
about  his  plans  for  the  summer. 

"  You  see,  I'm  on  the  Harvard  crew,"  he 
explained,  "  and  they're  all  coming  over  later 
to  have  a  month's  practice  on  the  course  here. 
We  row  Cambridge  in  the  fall,  37ou  know." 

Babbie  didn't  know,  and  inquired  eagerly 
when  and  where  the  race  was  to  come  off. 

"  Why,  right  here,  on  the  regular  course  up 
near  Hampton,"  Billy  told  her,  "  and  early  in 
September,  just  before  college  opens.  It's  go- 
ing to  be  simply  great.  Can't  you  manage  to 
be  on  hand  ?  " 

Babbie  explained  that  they  were  going  over 
to  France  and  had  meant  to  sail  for  home  from 
a  French  port.  "  But  there  isn't  any  reason 
why  we  shouldn't  come  back  to  England  first," 
she  declared.  "  I'm  going  to  ask  mother  if  we 
can't  do  that.  We  could  leave  a  week  earlier 
now,  and  have  a  week  here  in  September." 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  Billy  took  up  his 
own  story,  "  my  roommate  was  coming  with 
me  in  June,  but  he  caught  the  measles  from 
his  kid  brother — wasn't  that  the  complete 
limit  of  a  thing  to  do? — so  I  just  came  along 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.       199 

alone.  I  was  afraid  if  I  waited  over  another 
boat  for  him,  my  guardian  might  change  his 
mind  about  letting  me  go."  Billy  smiled 
pensively.  "  He  can  change  his  mind  all  he 
likes  now.  I'm  twenty-one.  My  birthday 
was  yesterday  and  I  celebrated  by  cabling 
home  for  more  money.  You  see,"  he  added 
confidentially,  "  I'm  having  some  clothes 
made  by  a  Bond  Street  tailor." 

Babbie  laughed.  "  They  say  what  women 
come  abroad  for  is  to  buy  clothes,  but  I  didn't 
suppose  men  cared  much  about  shopping  over 
here." 

"  Well,  the  point  is  that  I  didn't  bring  over 
any  glad  rags,"  Billy  explained.  "  Didn't  ex- 
pect to  need  any,  just  knocking  about  by  my- 
self. But  I'm  going  to  run  over  to  Paris  when 
Trevelyan  goes — I  shall  have  just  time  to  see 
the  town  before  the  crew  gets  here — and  the 
countess  that  his  sister  is  visiting  is  going  to 
give  a  dance  for  her  just  about  that  time. 
Trevelyan  insists  that  she'll  want  me  to  come, 
when  she  hears  from  him  that  I'm  with  him, 
and  so  of  course  I've  got  to  have  the  proper 
things  ready." 

"  How  exciting,"  laughed   Babbie,  "  to  be 


200      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

going  to  a  countess's  ball.  Madeline  has  a 
cousin  who  is  a  viscountess,  but  she's  not  in 
Paris  just  now,  and  I'm  afraid  that  spoils  our 
only  chance  of  breaking  into  titled  society." 

Meanwhile  they  had  reached  the  Express 
Office,  and  John  demanded  his  mail  and  re- 
ceived the  expected  missive  from  his  father 
with  a  grin  of  rapture. 

"  Excuse  me  while  I  read  this,"  he  said, 
waving  it  triumphantly  aloft  and  retiring  in 
haste  to  a  quiet  corner. 

Two  minutes  later  he  was  back,  the  letter 
and  the  smile  both  out  of  sight. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said  grimly.  "  Let's  go  and 
drown  our  sorrows  in  tea." 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  Babe  inquired  sym- 
pathetically, when  the  party  had  paired  off  to 
walk  to  a  tea-shop  that  Madeline  knew  of  on 
Regent  Street.  "  Wasn't  he  as  pleased  as  you 
thought  he  would  be  ?  " 

"  Pleased  !  "  repeated  John  gloomily.  "  He 
wasn't  pleased  at  all.  He  told  me  in  polite 
language  that  Dwight  had  lied  about  me,  and 
insinuated  that  I'd  put  him  up  to  it,  because 
I  wanted  to  get  something  out  of  my  father. 
He  says  he  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  Dwight 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      201 

when  he  hired  him  in  the  spring,  but  he  sees 
now  that  he's  only  an  'amiable  futility/  like  all 
the  other  tutors  I've  had.  Then  he  ended  by 
saying  that  when  he  wanted  information 
about  my  mental  capacity  he  would  ask  for 
it,  and  that  if  I  couldn't  get  along  with  the 
allowance  we  settled  on  when  I  came  across,  I 
would  just  have  to  cut  down  my  expenses." 

"  What  a  shame  1 "  Babe's  voice  was  full  of 
righteous  indignation.  "  And  you  didn't 
want  any  more  money,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  not !  Why,  I  saved  a  lot 
while  we  were  staying  in  Oban.  Besides  I 
wouldn't  take  that  way  to  get  it, — I'd  ask 
right  out,  as  I  generally  do.  It's  so  madden- 
ing to  have  him  always  assume  as  a  matter  of 
course  that  a  fellow's  in  the  wrong." 

"Is  he  that  way  about  everything?" 

John  nodded.  "  I  told  you  how  he  hated  this 
vacation  that  he's  taking.  He  enjoys  grum- 
bling over  things  as  much  as  you  or  I  enjoy 
laughing  about  them." 

"Just  like  the  funny  old  gentleman  we 
met  in  Grasmere,"  said  Babe.  "  Why,  John, 
is  your  father's  name  Jasper  J.  Morton  ?  " 

John  nodded.     "  Just  suits  him,  too." 


202      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

11  Why,  then  he  was  the  very  one  we  met." 
Babe  laughed  delightedly.  "  Didn't  I  write 
you  anything  about  it  ?  Well,  it  was  this 
way."  She  gave  a  brief  sketch  of  the  en- 
counter, ending  with,  "  He  may  be  hard  to 
get  along  with  sometimes,  John,  but  he's  an 
old  dear  just  the  same.  Betty  thinks  so, 
too.  She  saw  more  of  him  than  I  did." 

"  Well,  we  don't  hit  it  off  somehow,  he  and 
I."  John's  tone  was  as  gloomy  as  ever.  "  I 
feel  sometimes  as  if  I  might  as  well  stop  try- 
ing to  please  him.  Makes  you  envy  a  chap 
like  Billy  Benson  who's  always  done  about 
as  he  pleased  and  now  is  absolutely  his  own 
master.  I'm  six  months  older  than  Billy, 
but  my  being  of  age  doesn't  make  the  least 
difference  in  the  way  my  father  treats  me, 
and  now  I've  done  my  level  best  this  summer, 
and  that  hasn't  made  the  least  difference 
either." 

"  Oh,  but  it  must  in  the  end,"  Babe  reas- 
sured him  cheerfully.  "  You'll  feel  better 
after  you've  had  some  tea." 

But  John  refused  to  be  cheered,  though 
Billy  Benson  and  Madeline  gave  absurd 
imitations  of  English  people  taking  tea,  and 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      203 

Billy  read  a  thrilling  letter  from  the  captain 
of  the  Harvard  crew,  which  made  all  the 
girls  as  eager  as  Babbie  had  been  to  come 
back  in  September  for  the  race. 

"  I  shan't  see  that  race,"  John  confided  in 
low  tones  to  Babe.  "  I  bet  you  all  the 
money  I  saved  in  Oban  against  your  blue 
tie  that  my  father  chooses  that  particular 
day  to  sail  from  Liverpool." 

"  I  never  bet,"  Babe  returned  laughingly. 
"  But  if  I  see  your  father  again — he  told  us 
he  hoped  we  might  meet  somewhere  over 
in  France — I'll  mention  the  race  and  invite 
him  to  take  me  to  it." 

"  But  if  I  go,  I  shall  want  to  take  you 
myself,"  objected  John. 

"  Humph  !  "  observed  Babe,  "  it  seems  to 
me  that  Mr.  Jasper  J.  Morton  has  not  monop- 
olized all  the  contrariety  there  is  in  the 
family." 


CHAPTER  XI 

BETTY    WALES,    DETECTIVE 

BILLY  BENSON  lost  no  time  in  accepting 
the  girls'  invitation  to  call  on  them.  On  the 
evening  of  the  day  after  the  ghost-hunt  that 
developed  into  a  tea-drinking,  Billy  appeared, 
arrayed  in  the  "  glad  rags "  that  he  had 
cajoled  his  Bond  Street  tailor  into  finishing 
long  before  the  stipulated  time.  Finding  that 
Mrs.  Hildreth  was  hesitating  a  little  about 
including  the  Harvard-Cambridge  race  in 
her  itinerary,  he  set  himself  to  cajole  her — 
with  equal  success.  First  he  told  funny 
stories  to  make  her  laugh  ;  then  he  unearthed 
the  fact  that  his  mother  and  she  had  been 
girlhood  friends ;  then  he  alluded  casually 
to  English  sports,  and  offered  to  take  her  to 
a  cricket-match  the  next  afternoon  ;  finally 
he  smiled  his  famous  smile  and  asked  her 
if  she  honestly  wouldn't  like  to  see  that 
race  he  had  told  the  girls  about.  Of  course 

204 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      205 

he  wanted  to  row  his  very  best,  for  the  honor 
of  Harvard  and  the  United  States  of  America  ; 
and  he  could  do  any  amount  better  if  he 
knew  that  some  good  friends  of  his  would  be 
watching  him  and  cheering  for  the  crimson. 
Whereupon  Mrs.  Hildreth  laughed  at  his 
ingenious  reasoning  and  commissioned  Babbie 
and  Madeline  to  see  about  engaging  passage 
back  from  an  English  port.  And  Billy, 
thanking  her  with  charming  deference,  and 
taking  an  early  and  ceremonious  leave,  re- 
flected, as  he  often  had  before,  that  it  was 
easy  enough  to  get  things  your  .way  if  you 
only  took  a  little  pains  to  be  agreeable. 

John  Morton,  on  the  other  hand,  bitterly 
regretted  the  girls'  change  of  plan.  "  I  know 
I  shan't  be  here  for  the  race,"  he  told  Babe, 
"  and  I  can't  go  over  to  Paris  when  you  do, 
because  old  Dwight  won't  be  through  with 
his  reading  at  the  British  Museum.  I  might 
skip  off  with  Billy,  I  suppose,  but  my  father 
would  be  furious  if  he  ever  found  it  out." 

"  You  mustn't  do  that,"  Babe  advised  him. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  the  square  thing  at  all.  Be- 
sides, we're  not  going  straight  to  Paris. 
We're  going  to  Saint  something.  I  forget 


206      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

the  name,  but  it's  a  seaside  place  up  in 
Brittany.  Madeline  says  it's  lovely.  So  you 
may  get  to  Paris  as  soon  as  we  do  after  all." 

"  I  hope  so.  Anyway  I  think  you  ought  to 
go  sight-seeing  in  London  now  and  not  waste 
time  over  shopping.  You  can  do  that  just  as 
well  in  September  when  I'm  not  here." 

"  And  in  that  way  we  won't  have  the  things 
we  buy  to  lug  around  in  the  meantime," 
added  Babe  ;  but  it  is  doubtful  if  this  practi- 
cal consideration  had  very  much  to  do  with 
the  sudden  subsidence  of  her  shopping  mania. 

Of  course  Babe  told  all  the  girls  that  Jasper 
J.  Morton,  the  Grasmere  automobilist,  and 
John's  father  were  one  and  the  same  per- 
son. But  only  to  Betty  did  she  confide  the 
story  of  the  letter  that  had  so  disheartened 
John. 

"  I  wish  I  were  like  you,"  she  said ;  "  then 
I  should  know  how  to  give  him  the  right  kind 
of  advice." 

"  Why,  I  should  think  the  only  thing  to 
say  was  that  he  ought  to  try  to  make  his 
father  see  that  he's  trying,"  began  Betty 
doubtfully.  "  You  can't  expect  a  person  to 
believe  right  off  that  you  are  going  to  work 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      207 

hard,  when  you've  always  wasted  your  time 
before.  Goodness,  don't  you  remember  how 
long  it  took  Eleanor  Watson  to  get  back  her 
reputation  ?  You  just  wouldn't  believe  in  her 
yourself,  Babe." 

"  That  was  very  different.  She — she  wasn't 
honest.  Besides,  if  I'd  been  her  father  I'd 
have  stuck  by  her." 

Betty  smiled  at  Babe's  easy  assumptions. 
"  You  can't  tell  what  you'd  have  done.  But, 
anyhow,  don't  feel  so  bad  about  it.  They'll 
just  have  to  get  along  as  they  always  have  be- 
fore." 

"  Oh,  no,  they  won't !  "  Babe's  tone  was 

tragic.  "They Oh,  Betty,  I've  just  got 

to  tell  some  one.  John  says  he  simply  can't 
stand  it  any  longer.  He's  talked  to  Mr.  Ben- 
son about  it,  and  he  has  been  asking  Mr. 
Trevelyan  about  the  chances  for  a  young  man 
in  Australia.  Mr.  Benson  has  some  kind  of 
a  big  business  that  his  guardian  is  managing 
for  him  until  he's  through  college,  and  he 
says  he  will  ask  the  guardian  to  give  John  a 
position  there.  But  John  thinks  Australia 
would  be  better,  because  you  can  always  earn 
more  in  a  wild  country,  and  then  besides,  if 


208      BETTT  WALES,  B.  A. 

his  father  objected,  he  would  be  away  off 
there  and  he  could  just  go  ahead  with  his 
plans." 

"  Oh,  Babe,  how  silly !  Then  he  doesn't 
want  to  finish  his  college  course,  after  all  the 
time  he's  spent  tutoring?  " 

Babe  shook  her  head.  "  He  doesn't  want 
to  do  that  anyway.  He  says  it  will  be  only  a 
waste  of  time.  Whatever  he  does,  he  wants 
to  go  right  to  work.  He'd  be  perfectly  satis- 
fied if  his  father  would  let  him  go  to  work  in 
his  business." 

"  But  what's  his  dreadful  hurry  ? "  de- 
manded Betty.  "  As  long  as  his  father  wants 
him  to  finish  college  why  doesn't  he  do  it,  and 
then  go  to  work  ?  If  he's  really  in  earnest 
about  trying  to  please  his  father  that's  what 
he  ought  to  do." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  a  year  is  a  lot  of  time  to 
lose,  when  you  might  be  getting  started  in 
business.  He  wouldn't  expect  his  father  to 
support  him — that  is,  we  wouldn't  want — 

we  couldn't "  Babe  paused,  blushing 

furiously.  "  Oh,  Betty,  don't  you  see  how  it 
is  ?  You've  just  screwed  it  out  of  me.  Promise 
you  won't  tell  anybody." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      209 

"  Of  course  not,"  laughed  Betty.  "  A  nice 
consistent  man-hater  you  are,  Babe." 

"  But  Betty,  I  haven't  decided  anything 
yet,"  Babe  protested  hastily.  "  I  may  decide 
to  go  on  being  a  man-hater  just  the  same. 
Anyway  John  is  only  the  exception  that 
proves  the  rule." 

"  Well,  certainly,  Babe,"  Betty  went  on 
seriously,  "  you  wouldn't  want  him  to  have 
any  trouble  with  his  father  on  your  account." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Babe  earnestly.  "  I 
couldn't  bear  to  have  him  do  that.  That's 
why  it  all  worries  me  so." 

"  Then  why  not  tell  him  that  you  think  he 
ought  to  stick  to  college  and  try  to  please  his 
father,  whatever  happens  ?  " 

Babe  considered,  frowning.  "  I  will.  A 
year  isn't  so  terribly  long,  when  you're  young. 
I'll — yes,  I'll  tell  him  that  if  he  doesn't  decide 
to  go  back  to  college  and  do  his  best  to  make 
his  father  happy  why  I'll  just  return  his 
cairngorm  pin." 

The  few  remaining  days  of  the  girls'  stay  in 
London  flew  swiftly  by.  It  was  the  regular 
thing  for  John  to  join  them  for  a  part  of  each 
day.  Sometimes  when  he  was  not  too  busy  at 


210      BETTT   WALES,   B.A. 

the  British  Museum,  Mr.  Dwight  came  too. 
Billy  Benson,  who  was  an  indefatigable  sight- 
seer, divided  his  time  between  Jol^n  and  the 
girls  and  Mr.  Trevelyan,  who  kept  modestly 
in  the  background,  always  ready  if  Billy 
wanted  his  society,  and  always  having  "  busi- 
ness "  to  attend  to  when  Billy  was  otherwise 
engaged.  Billy,  who  was  an  impressionable 
youth,  was  forever  singing  his  new  friend's 
praises. 

"  He's  so  thoughtful  and  considerate,"  he 
declared  to  Babbie  one  morning.  "  My  invi- 
tation to  the  countess's  dance  came  this  morn- 
ing." He  held  out  a  daintily  engraved  card. 
"  What  did  he  do  but  write  to  his  sister  to  see 
if  I  might  bring  you  along.  No,  I  didn't  sug- 
gest it.  It  was  all  his  own  idea.  He  said 
that  his  sister  would  be  the  only  woman  there 
who  spoke  English,  and  as  the  guest  of  honor 
she'll  be  busy  of  course.  And  as  I  can't  '  par- 
lez-vous  '  one  small  word,  he's  afraid  I'll  be 
bored — or  a  bore.  Would  you  come  ?  " 

Babbie  wasn't  sure  that  they  would  be  in 
Paris  in  time  for  the  dance.  Even  if  they 
were  she  hadn't  any  evening  dress  with  her, 
and  anyway,  she  was  afraid  her  mother 


BETTT  WALES, B. A.      211 

wouldn't  be  willing  that  she  should  go. 
"  But  it  was  fine  of  him  to  think  of  it,"  she 
ended.  "  I'm  going  to  ask  mother  if  she 
minds  his  joining  us  on  the  trip  to  Hampton 
Court." 

The  Hampton  Court  expedition  was  to  fur- 
nish the  grand  finale  for  the  London  chapter 
of  "  B.  A. 's  Abroad."  They  were  to  go  up  to 
Hampton  by  an  early  afternoon  train,  see  the 
palace  and  gardens,  have  dinner  at  an  inn 
with  a  fascinating  name  just  outside  the  palace 
gates,  and  row  down  the  river  at  sunset,  tak- 
ing a  train  back  to  London  somewhere  further 
down  the  line.  Mrs.  Hildreth  was  going  to 
chaperon  the  party,  and  she  had  no  objection 
to  Babbie's  asking  Mr.  Trevelyan  to  join  it. 
She  shook  her  head,  however,  over  the  invi- 
tation to  the  countess's  dance.  "  You  couldn't 
go  without  a  chaperon,  dear,"  she  said.  "  And 
if  the  idea  is  that  Mr.  Trevelyan's  sister  is  to 
chaperon  you,  why  I  shouldn't  be  at  all  will- 
ing unless  I  had  met  her  beforehand." 

Billy  assured  her  easily  that  all  those  de- 
tails could  be  arranged.  "  Don't  say  no  until 
you  have  to,"  he  begged.  "  I'm  afraid 
Trevelyan  will  be  discouraged  at  the  prospect 


212      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

of  my  dumbness  and  try  to  get  out  of  taking 
me.  Besides,  it  would  be  such  a  jolly  lark  if 
you  came." 

So  the  matter  was  left  in  abeyance  for  the 
moment.  Billy,  in  his  casual  way,  told  Mr. 
Trevelyan  that  Mrs.  Hildreth  hoped  she  could 
meet  his  sister  before  the  dance,  and  Mr. 
Trevelyan  bowed  gravely  and  said  his  sister 
would  certainly  do  herself  the  honor  of  calling 
on  Mrs.  Hildreth. 

He  bowed  gravely  again  as  he  accepted 
Babbie's  invitation  to  go  with  them  to  Hamp- 
ton Court.  He  seemed  very  familiar  with  the 
place,  and  John  and  Billy,  who  found  English 
time-tables  and  tram-lines  very  confusing, 
sighed  relieved  sighs  and  let  him  direct  the 
party. 

"  It's  fine  having  him  along,"  Billy  declared. 
"  He  always  knows  where  things  are  and 
how  you  get  there  and  what  there  is  to  see. 
He's  as  good  as  a  regular  guide,  and  at  the 
same  time  he's  an  addition  to  the  party." 

"  Without  being  an  additional  expense," 
laughed  John.  "  Pays  his  own  way,  doesn't 
he?" 

Billy   nodded.     "We    sort   of  take   turns. 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      213 

If  I  pay  for  our  luncheons,  he  pays  for  din- 
ner. Then  I  pay  for  the  theatre  and  so  on. 
It  evens  up  in  the  end,  and  it's  less  trouble 
among  friends." 

"  This  expedition  is  to  be  a  Dutch  treat,  you 
know,"  John  explained  "  Babbie  insisted 
that  it  must  be  that  way." 

Billy  felt  in  his  pockets  absently.  "By 
George,  that's  lucky  for  me,  because  I  forgot  to 
get  a  check  cashed  this  morning.  Can  you 
lend  me  a  little?" 

John  laughed.  "  I  can't.  I  forgot  too,  and 
I  shall  be  doing  well  if  I  get  back  to  London 
with  a  'bus  fare." 

They  were  standing  on  the  terrace  at  Hamp- 
ton Court,  overlooking  the  river,  with  its  gay 
row  of  house-boats  anchored  to  the  opposite 
shore.  Trevelyan  was  with  the  girls  and  Mrs. 
Hildreth,  pointing  out  the  different  boats  and 
telling  the  names  of  their  owners. 

"  I  say,  Trevelyan,"  Billy  hailed  him,  "  can 
you  finance  me  for  the  day,  and  maybe  John, 
too?  We've  forgotten  to  get  any  checks 
cashed." 

Trevelyan  smiled.  "  I  think  I  can  accom- 
modate you,  if  you  don't  want  too  much.  You 


214       BETTT    WALES,  E.A. 

carry  express  checks,  too  ? "  He  looked  at 
John. 

"  All  good  Americans  do,"  declared  John. 

"  Except  me,"  Babbie  put  in.  "  I  carry 
gold  certificates." 

"  You'd  better  not  say  that  too  loud," 
laughed  John.  "  With  your  gold  certificates, 
and  that  ring " — pointing  at  the  sparkling 
hoop  of  diamonds  that  had  been  Babbie's 
father's  last  present  to  her  and  that  she  always 
wore — "you'd  be  a  valuable  prey  for  brigands." 
He  pointed  to  the  shadowy  length  of  Queen 
Mary's  "  pleached  walk  "  just  behind  them. 
"  These  European  show-places  swarm  with 
adventurers.  How  do  you  know  that  Tre- 
velyan  isn't  one,  and  that  he  isn't  planning  to 
drag  you  off  to  that  pleached  walk  after  din- 
ner and  rob  you  ?  " 

Babbie  laughed.  "  I'm  not  afraid.  But 
it  is  queer,  isn't  it,  how  the  first  subject  of 
conversations  among  travelers  is  always, '  How 
do  you  carry  your  money  ? '  I've  told  lots 
of  people  how  I  carry  mine."  She  turned  to 
Trevelyan.  "  I  told  you  the  very  first  time  I 
met  you." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  asked  Trevelyan  absently.    "  I 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      215 

don't  remember.  Shall  we  go  and  walk  in 
Mary's  bower,  Miss  Hildreth  ?  " 

Babbie  had  not  liked  Mr.  Trevelyan  particu- 
larly before,  but  he  was  so  entertaining  this 
afternoon  that  she  was  secretly  annoyed  when 
she  found  herself  paired  off  with  Mr.  Dwight 
for  the  long  row  down  the  river.  Mr.  Tre- 
velyan was  writh  Betty,  who  always  got  on 
beautifully  with  Mr.  Dwight.  But  it  couldn't 
be  helped,  so  Babbie  settled  herself  to  enjoy 
the  river  and  make  the  best  of  her  rather 
prosy  companion.  The  river  was  crowded 
with  pleasure-craft — motor-boats,  launches, 
rowboats,  and  punts.  These  last  fascinated 
Betty,  because  they  were  different  from  any- 
thing in  America. 

"  I  like  all  these  nice  slow  English  things," 
she  told  Mr.  Trevelyan.  "  Can  you  punt?  " 

He  nodded.  "  But  don't  you  notice  that 
in  punting  the  girl  nearly  always  does  the 
work  ?  "  He  held  his  oars  in  one  hand  and 
pointed  to  a  boat  that  was  coming  up-stream 
near  the  other  bank.  As  he  did  so,  he  turned 
to  face  it  and  the  man  who  was  lolling  on  the 
cushions  recognized  him  and  sat  up  sud- 
denly. 


216      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

"  How  are  you,  Lestrange  ? "  he  called 
across  the  water.  "  Haven't  seen  you  in 
weeks." 

"  Quite  well,  thanks.  I've  been  awfully 
busy,"  Trevelyan  called  back,  and  picking  up 
his  oars  began  pulling  off  with  long  steady 
strokes  that  speedily  put  distance  between 
himself  and  the  punt.  But  he  could  row  and 
talk,  too.  He  seemed  bent  on  being  as  agree- 
able to  Betty  as,  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  he 
had  to  Babbie.  When  they  reached  the  land- 
ing-place that  had  been  appointed  as  a  ren- 
dezvous he  still  kept  close  beside  her,  and  on 
the  train  and  the  'bus  he  was  a  most  attentive 
escort.  Betty,  who  was  very  sleepy,  wished 
at  last  that  he  would  talk  to  somebody  else 
and  let  her  have  a  little  cat-nap  in  peace.  She 
also  wanted  to  ask  John  or  Billy  Benson 
whether  his  first  name  was  Lestrange,  but  she 
couldn't,  with  him  close  beside  her.  Very 
likely  Babbie  or  Babe  would  know.  It  was 
certainly  a  queer  first  name. 

"  Who's  going  to  see  us  off  in  the  morning  ?  " 
asked  Babbie,  as  the  men  made  ready  to  say 
good-night.  "John,  you  will,  of  course." 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  returned  John  stiffly,  avoid- 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      217 

ing  Babbie's  eyes.  "  Quarter  to  ten  is  very 
early  for  London." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  retorted  Billy  Benson  cheer- 
fully. "  I'll  get  you  up  in  time.  I'm  com- 
ing to  the  station,  and  so  is  Trevelyau,  aren't 
you,  old  man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Trevelyan,  who  was 
still  standing  close  by  Betty. 

"  Well,  did  everybody  have  a  good  time  ?  " 
asked  Madeline,  when  they  were  indoors. 

"  I  did,"  said  Babbie  quickly,  "  until  I  got 
caught  with  Mr.  Dwight." 

"  I  did,"  agreed  Betty,  "  until  I  got  sleepy 
and  kept  yawning  in  Mr.  Trevelyan's  face,  in 
spite  of  myself.  By  the  way,  a  queer  thing 
happened  while  we  were  rowing  down  the 
river.  Do  any  of  you  happen  to  know  his 
first  name  ?  " 

"  It's  Arthur,"  said  Babbie  promptly.  "  I 
saw  it  on  the  invitation  that  Mr.  Benson  had 
to  the  countess's  ball.  It  was  addressed  in 
care  of  Mr.  Arthur  Trevelyan." 

"  That's  queer."  Betty  repeated  what  the 
man  in  the  punt  had  said. 

"  Probably  Lestrange  is  "his  second  name," 
suggested  Madeline.  "  The  invitation  might 


218      BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

have  read  L.  Arthur  or  Arthur  L.  Babbie 
wouldn't  have  noticed  the  initial." 

"But  just  suppose  it  isn't,"  Betty  argued. 
"  I  thought  he  looked  queer,  and  tried  to 
hurry  away,  though  that  may  all  have  been 
my  imagination ;  but  anyhow  it  would  have 
been  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for 
him  to  have  explained." 

"  But  he  wouldn't  think  of  explaining  if  it 
is  his  other  name,"  Madeline  persisted,  "  an}' 
more  than  Babe  would  think  of  explaining  if 
some  one  happened  to  call  her  Sarah.  How- 
ever, of  course  Mr.  Benson  doesn't  really 
know  anything  about  him.  Let's  suppose  he 
is  an  adventurer,  with  aliases  and  deep-laid 
schemes  for  separating  the  boys  from  their 
money.  You'd  better  write  and  warn  them, 
Betty." 

"  Honestly,  Betty,  you  ought,"  added  Babe, 
thinking  of  John's  Australian  schemes,  which 
depended  more  or  less  on  Mr.  Trevelyan's  co- 
operation. 

"  We  shall  see  them  all  in  the  morning," 
Babbie  reminded  them.  "  And  please  don't 
say  anything  to  mother  until  you're  sure. 
She'll  be  so  horrified  to  think  that  she  allowed 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      219 

her  innocent  young  daughter  and  her  daugh- 
ter's little  friends  to  go  around  London  in 
such  dreadful  company." 

So  ^Betty  decided  to  wait  until  morning. 
But  though  the  girls  scanned  the  platform 
anxiously  until  the  train  pulled  out  of  the 
station  no  one  appeared  to  see  them  off. 

"  I  knew  they  wouldn't  come,"  Babe  con- 
fided in  savage  tones  to  Betty.  "  At  least  I 
knew  John  wouldn't.  I  did  what  I  told  you 
I  would,  and  he  was  perfectly  horrid — said  it 
was  just  like  a  girl  to  want  to  decide  every- 
thing, and  that  of  course  he'd  like  to  please 
me,  but  he  must  do  what  he  thought  was  best. 
So  I  gave  him  back  his  old  cairngorm,  and 
there  isn't  any  exception  to  the  rule  of  man- 
hating,  after  all.  And  I'm  perfectly  miser- 
able, so  there  now  !  " 

Several  days  later  Babbie  got  a  note  from 
John,  forwarded  from  her  Paris  address, 
which  seemed  to  disprove  Babe's  theory. 
They  had  all  three  gone  to  see  the  girls  off, 
he  explained,  but  Mr.  Trevelyan  had  for  once 
proved  unreliable ;  he  had  made  an  unac- 
countable mistake  about  the  station,  which 
John  had  discovered  too  late  to  correct.  So 


220      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

they  had  waited  for  the  girls  at  Paddington 
while  the  girls  watched  for  them  in  Waterloo. 
"  He  got  us  there  an  hour  early  too,"  John 
wrote.  "  Insisted  that  you  said  eight  forty- 
five  instead  of  nine.  And  we  were  all  awfully 
sleepy,  because  after  we  left  you  we  took  a 
long  'bus  ride  through  the  East  End  and  then 
stopped  on  the  Embankment  for  supper. 
Dwight  hasn't  finished  reading  through  the 
British  Museum,  so  I  don't  know  when  we 
may  get  to  Paris.  However,  I  still  find  Lon- 
don very  interesting  " — a  conclusion  which 
made  everybody  but  Babe  smile. 

This  letter  crossed  with  Betty's  note,  telling 
John  about  the  name  by  which  some  of  Mr. 
Trevelyan's  English  friends  knew  him  ;  so  of 
course  it  threw  no  light  on  the  subject.  The 
girls  watched  eagerly  for  another  letter,  all 
through  the  week  they  spent  at  Saint  Malo, 
but  none  came.  However,  as  Madeline  re- 
marked, Saint  Malo  was  quite  fascinating 
enough  without  any  adventurer  stalking 
through  its  streets,  and  besides,  one  didn't 
need  to  speculate  about  imaginary  adventures 
when  you  were  living  in  the  midst  of  real 
ones. 


CHAPTER  XII 

JASPER    J.    MORTON    AGAIN 

"  MAXIM  for  travelers  :  Always  begin  your 
first  trip  to  France  at  Saint  Malo,"  announced 
Betty  Wales,  after  they  had  explored  the 
quaint  old  town  a  little.  Babbie  and  Mad- 
eline, the  traveled  contingent,  agreed  that  it 
was  "just  as  dear  and  almost  as  dirty  "  as  any- 
thing in  Italy,  which  was  Madeline's  standard 
of  real  charm.  Babe,  being  in  a  state  of  sub- 
dued and  pensive  melancholy,  said  nothing 
and  thought  a  great  deal — but  not  about  Saint 
Malo.  Madeline  and  Babbie  supposed  she  was 
missing  John  until  Babe,  unable  to  endure 
their  constant  chaffing  any  longer,  informed 
them  curtly  that  she  never  wished  to  see  him 
again  as  long  as  she  lived.  Having  freed  her 
mind,  she  felt  a  little  better ;  but  she  sternly 
rejected  sympathy,  even  from  Betty,  refused  to 
confide  in  Babbie,  though  the  B's  had  always 
told  one  another  everything,  and  spent  most 


221 


222      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

of  her  time  on  the  hotel  piazza  facing  the  sea, 
sitting  in  one  of  the  hooded  beach  chairs  that 
abound  at  all  the  continental  watering-places. 
The  hood  of  this  particular  one  was  lined  with 
pink  flowered  cretonne,  and  it  was  so  becom- 
ing that  Babbie  declared  it  was  a  perfect  shame 
the  effect  should  be  lost. 

"John  would  do  anything  she  wanted  if  he 
could  see  her  in  that  chair,"  she  declared. 
"  As  for  her  not  wanting  to  see  him,  she's 
simply  dying  to  this  very  minute.  Won't  it 
be  interesting  watching  them  make  up  in 
Paris?" 

"  Almost  as  interesting  as  it  is  watching 
Betty  buy  post-cards  in  French,"  laughed 
Madeline. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  am  funny,"  declared  Betty 
stoutly.  "  I'm  learning.  I  can  say  almost 
anything  I  want  to  now,  only  I  have  to  look 
up  some  words  in  my  dictionary.  I've  written 
my  family  that  you  can  learn  more  French 
here  in  a  week  than  you  do  in  a  year  at 
Harding." 

"  That's  a  base  slander  on  Harding,"  re- 
turned Madeline  promptly.  "  Here  you  are 
engaging  the  entire  time  of  two  excellent 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.       223 

tutors, — meaning  me  and  Miss  Hildreth, — be- 
sides getting  incidental  instruction  from  nearly 
every  inhabitant  of  the  town.  You  ought  to 
be  learning  a  little  something,  my  child." 

"  You  never  bought  a  dictionary  either,  at 
Harding,"  put  in  Babbie.  "  You  used  to  bor- 
row Nita's." 

Betty's  diminutive  French  dictionary  had 
been  her  first  purchase  in  Saint  Malo.  In  the 
crowd  of  porters  and  custom-house  officials  on 
the  landing-wharf  she  had  discovered  that  she 
knew  even  less  French  than  she  had  supposed, 
and  Madeline's  and  Babbie's  easy  intercourse 
with  the  hotel  servants  and  shop-keepers  filled 
her  with  envy  and  despair. 

"  I  will  learn,"  she  declared.  "  I  never 
wanted  to  particularly  before,  but  now  I  want 
to  more  than  anything.  I  won't  be  carried 
along  on  this  trip  like  a  piece  of  baggage, 
having  to  call  one  of  you  whenever  I  want  to 
ask  for  hot  water  or  buy  a  postage  stamp." 

So  she  bought  her  dictionary  and  carried  it 
with  her  everywhere,  bringing  it  out  on  all 
occasions,  to  the  intense  amusement  of  Babbie 
and  Madeline,  who  criticised  her  accent 
mercilessly,  taught  her  the  most  complicated 


224      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

idioms  they  could  remember,  and  assisted  her 
progress  by  making  her  inquire  the  way  about 
the  town,  do  their  shopping  as  well  as  her 
own,  and  even  flounder  through  protracted 
interviews  with  the  fat  and  obtuse  old  woman 
who  rented  bath-houses  and  suits  on  the  rocks 
just  below  the  wall  that  encircled  the  town. 
With  such  strenuous  practice  it  was  certainly 
no  wonder,  as  Madeline  had  pointed  out,  that 
Betty's  progress  was  rapid. 

Saint  Malo  is  a  tiny,  sleepy  town,  shut  in  by 
a  great  wall.  Its  narrow,  crooked  streets  are 
lined  with  tall  stone  houses,  there  is  a  lovely 
old  church  towering  over  everything,  and  on 
all  sides,  when  the  tide  is  high,  is  the  sea.  At 
low  tide  there  are  great  stretches  of  ugly  yel- 
low sand  flats,  where  it  is  not  safe  to  walk 
because  of  treacherous  quicksands,  and  over 
which  the  incoming  sea  rushes  "  faster  than  a 
horse  can  gallop,"  so  the  natives  tell  you 
proudly.  But  there  are  small  bathing  beaches 
close  to  the  wall ;  there  is  the  wall  to  promen- 
ade on;  there  are  the  dark,  stuffy  little  shops 
in  the  town  where  one  buys  Brittany  ware  and 
Cluny  lace,  all  "  tres  bon  marche,"  of  bright- 
eyed  peasant  women  in  caps  and  sabots ;  and 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.      225 

everywhere  there  is  the  fascinating  foreign  at- 
mosphere that  is,  after  all,  the  crowning  feature 
in  the  charm  of  traveling. 

"  I'm  so  glad  we  aren't  automobiling  this 
time ! "  sighed  Babbie.  "  James  wouldn't 
have  let  us  come  here.  He'd  have  fussed 
about  the  roads  or  the  garages  or  something 
of  that  sort.  I  hope  we  shall  have  time  for 
some  more  little  out-of-the-way  villages." 

"  There  are  dozens  in  this  neighborhood," 
the  "  man  from  Cook's  "  assured  her.  "  We 
ought  to  be  energetic  and  take  some  side- 
trips.  We  can  go  to  Dinard " 

"  That's  where  I  want  to  go,"  broke  in  Mrs. 
Hildreth.  "  I've  heard  so  much  about  what 
a  gay,  pretty  little  place  it  is.  Is  it  hard  to 
get  there,  Madeline  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  responded  Madeline,  "  only 
if  we're  going  to-day  we  ought  to  start  in  a 
few  minutes  and  have  lunch  there,  because 
the  tide  is  low  about  noon,  and  at  low  tide 
the  ferry-boat  doesn't  run,  or  if  it  does  it 
starts  from  some  inconvenient  place." 

"  Then  if  Dinard  is  dressy,  I  can't  go,"  said 
Betty  sadly.  "  Every  one  of  my  thin  waists  is 
torn,  and  it  takes  ages  to  mend  them  nicely." 


226      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  come  over  in  the 
afternoon  and  meet  us  there?"  suggested 
Madeline.  "  The  pretty  French  girl  who 
sits  opposite  us  at  table  d'hote  says  that  there 
is  a  Casino  where  they  have  music  in  the 
afternoons.  People  motor  in  from  the  cha- 
teaux, and  it's  great  fun  sitting  on  the  piazzas 
and  watching  the  gaiety.  I'll  wait  and  come 
with  you,  if  you  like." 

But  Betty  insisted  that  she  could  go  per- 
fectly well  alone.  "  I  can  say,  *  Ou  est  le 
casino  ? '  beautifully,"  she  declared,  "  and 
if  I  don't  understand  a  word  of  the  answer 
why  I  can  just  watch  which  way  they  point. 
The  lovely  thing  about  French  people  is  that 
they  always  point.  I'll  mend  all  my  waists 
and  take  the  ferry  about  four,  or  whenever 
the  tide  is  right,  and  meet  you  at  the 
Casino." 

And  so  at  half-past  three, — because,  to  tell 
the  truth,  it  was  easier  to  be  a  little  early 
than  to  ask  the  hotel  clerk  about  the  tide, — 
Betty,  dressed  in  her  prettiest  white  suit  and 
her  hat  with  the  pink  roses,  came  out  of  the 
hotel  and  started  down  the  road  to  the  ferry 
landing.  It  was  a  hot  day  and  the  road  was 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.      227 

dusty,  and  she  hurried  as  fast  as  possible  to 
get  into  the  shelter  of  the  little  park  just 
back  of  the  landing.  But  before  she  reached 
it  she  heard  a  shout  from  the  bottom  of  the 
landing-steps,  and  the  next  minute  she  real- 
ized that  somebody  was  calling  her, — a  stout 
gentleman,  who,  having  detached  himself 
from  the  little  crowd  that  had  gathered  there, 
was  laboriously  climbing  the  steps  to  meet 
her,  still  calling  and  beckoning  frantically  as 
he  came.  But  instead  of  using  her  name  he 
was  shouting,  "  Miss  B.  A.  !  Miss  B.  A.  !  " 
And  this,  before  he  was  near  enough  to  be 
recognized,  gave  Betty  the  clue  to  his  identity. 
It  was  Jasper  J.  Morton,  of  course. 

His  coat  was  off,  he  carried  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  his  face  was  red  with  heat  and  in- 
dignation. 

"  Do  you  speak  English  ?  "  he  demanded, 
when  he  was  near  enough  to  be  heard.  "  I 
mean  do  you  speak  French  ?  I've  been  tear- 
ing around  asking  people  if  they  speak  English 
until  I'm  hoarse." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you  again,"  said 
Betty,  holding  out  her  hand  and  trying  not 
to  smile  at  the  absurd  figure  he  cut.  "  I 


228      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

speak  only  a  little  bit  of  French,  but  fortu- 
nately I  have  my  dictionary  along," — she 
pulled  the  little  book  out  of  a  pocket  in  her 
linen  coat — "  and  with  that  I  can  generally 
manage  pretty  well." 

"  The  point  is,"  Mr.  Morton  broke  in  im- 
patiently, "  do  you  speak  French  enough  to 
ascertain  what  has  happened  to  this  con- 
founded ferry  ?  I  came  over  here  this  morn- 
ing from  a  place  called  Dinard.  I  came  by 
ferry.  I  climbed  those  identical  steps."  He 
waved  his  hand  dramatically  toward  the 
landing.  "  I  lunched  and  strolled  around 
the  town  until  it  was  nearly  time  for  me  to 
meet  my  chauffeur  in  Dinard.  Then  I  came 
back  here.  The  ferry  is  gone.  The  ocean  is 
gone.  Am  I  out  of  my  senses,  or  what's 
happened  ?  "  He  mopped  his  brow  and  glow- 
ered darkly  at  Betty. 

"  The  ferry  hasn't  gone  for  good,"  she  as- 
sured him  soothingly,  "  nor  the  ocean.  In  a 
few  minutes  they'll  both  be  back  and  we  can 
go  to  Dinard  together.  I'm  waiting  for  the 
ferry  too."  And  she  explained  about  the 
tides,  which  necessitated  the  intermittent 
service. 


"I  HAVE  MY  DICTIONARY1 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      229 

Jasper  J.  Morton  stared  out  across  the  great 
stretch  of  bare  sand.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  in  a  few  minutes  all  that  will  be  un- 
der water  enough  to  float  a  good-sized  ferry- 
boat ?  Well,  these  tides  must  be  French,  like 
all  the  rest  of  it.  In  that  case  it's  lucky  I 
didn't  try  to  walk  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
water  to  see  if  I  couldn't  find  a  boat  there." 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  I'm  two  hours  late 
now.  I'm  never  late  for  my  appointments. 
My  chauffeur  won't  know  what  to  make  of  it. 
He  can't  speak  French  either,  so  he  won't  be 
able  to  ask  any  questions." 

Betty  laughed.  "  You  ought  to  get  a  dic- 
tionary like  mine.  It's  very  useful.  Can  I 
do  anything  else  for  you,  Mr.  Morton  ?  " 

Mr.  Morton  looked  at  her  sharply.  "  You 
can.  You  can  come  down  the  steps  with  me 
and  tell  the  man  who  insists  on  holding  my 
coat  that  I  don't  want  a  guide,  philosopher 
and  friend,  or  whatever  else  he's  trying  to  be 
to  me,  but  that  I  do  want  my  coat.  Pay 
him  off  with  these."  He  handed  her  some 
silver. 

With  some  difficulty  Betty  made  the  man 
understand  that  "  le  monsieur  Anglais  "  did 


230      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

not  want  a  guide  for  the  afternoon,  nor  a  boat- 
man, nor  a  porter. 

"  And  now,"  said  Jasper  J.  Morton  briskly, 
"  comes  the  real  business  of  the  moment. 
I've  got  to  send  some  telegrams  to  Dol,  where 
I'm  stopping  and  where  I  was  to  meet  two 
friends  on  business  at  five  o'clock.  I  shan't 
be  there  at  five.  Is  your  French  equal  to  find- 
ing a  telegraph  office?  " 

Betty  looked  up  several  words  in  her  dic- 
tionary, asked  a  question  or  two,  and  they 
started  off.  At  the  telegraph  office  Mr.  Mor- 
ton wrote  two  messages  just  alike  :  "  Una- 
voidably detained.  Back  in  evening.  Clef 
d'Or  best  hotel." 

"  That  will  fix  them,"  he  said,  smiling 
cheerfully  at  Betty.  "  They'll  spend  the  af- 
ternoon in  the  sulks,  thinking  I've  changed 
my  mind  and  won't  come  in  to  their  game. 
Now  see  that  he  reads  them  right  and  tell 
him  to  hurry  them  off,  and  then  we  can  talk 
English  for  a  while." 

"  I've  done  everything  to-day  that  my  doc- 
tor ordered  me  not  to,"  he  told  her  when  they 
were  on  their  way  back  to  the  ferry.  "  I've 
worried  about  business,  I've  got  overexcited 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      231 

and  overheated,  I've  lost  my  temper,  and  to- 
night I'm  going  to  do  business — the  biggest 
deal  I  ever  put  through.  You've  been  a 
Benevolent  Adventurer  this  time  all  right, 
Miss — Miss " 

"  Wales,"  Betty  supplied. 

"Think  I'll  have  to  call  you  Miss  B.  A.," 
he  laughed.  "  By  the  way,  how  did  you  find 
out  my  name? " 

Betty  had  to  think  a  minute.  "  Why,  we 
met  a  man  in  London  who  knows  you,  and 
then  we  know  your  son." 

"  You  know  John  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Morton 
irritably. 

Betty  nodded.  "  Don't  you  remember  I 
told  you  when  we  met  before  what  a  good  time 
we  had  in  Oban  ?  Well,  he  was  the  one  we 
had  it  with — he  and  Mr.  Dwight.  Only  I 
didn't  know  it  then — I  didn't  know  he  was 
your  son,  I  mean.  And  then  in  London  we 
met  him  again." 

"  You  did,  eh  ? "  Mr.  Morton  eyed  her 
sharply.  "  Met  him  again  in  London  ?  Are 
you  at  the  bottom  of  this  new  leaf  of  his  that 
Dwight  wrote  me  about,  Miss  B.  A.  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Betty  quickly,  "  but  I  think 


232      BETTT    WALES,  B.A. 

Babe  is, — at  least  they  got  to  be  awfully  good 
friends,  and  she  hates  a  shirk." 

"  Babe — that's  the  little  tomboy  who  stood 
up  for  you  against  me."  Mr.  Morton  laughed 
at  the  recollection.  "  She'd  be  a  match  for 
John.  She'd  make  something  of  him  if  any 
one  could.  But  what  she  can  see  in  him  beats 
me.  Oh,  he's  a  pleasant  fellow  enough,  but 
he'll  never  amount  to  that,  Miss  B.  A." 
Jasper  J.  Morton  snapped  his  fingers  derisively. 

They  had  come  out  on  the  water-front  and 
Betty,  happening  to  look  ahead,  saw  that  the 
tide  had  come  in,  and  with  it  the  ferry-boat, 
which  at  that  very  moment  gave  a  warning 
whistle. 

"  Oh,  dear,  we've  missed  the  boat ! "  she 
said,  "  and  they  only  go  once  an  hour." 

"No,  we  haven't,"  cried  Mr.  Morton. 
"  What's  the  French  for  '  Wait '  ?  You  tell 
me  and  I'll  shout  it."  Which  he  did  with 
such  effect  that  the  captain  reversed  his  en- 
gines and  put  back  for  them. 

"  Attendez,"  repeated  Mr.  Morton,  when  he 
had  settled  himself  on  board  and  caught  his 
breath.  "  Hope  I  can  remember  that.  It 
will  be  sure  to  come  in  handy  somewhere.  I 


BETTT   WALES,  E.  A.      233 

haven't  any  head  for  languages — never  had. 
Can't  talk  to  one  of  my  foreign  agents  with- 
out an  interpreter." 

"  It's  queer  that  your  son  should  be  so  fine 
at  languages,"  said  Betty,  glad  to  get  in  a 
word  in  John's  favor.  "  We've  always  thought 
that  Madeline  Ayres  was  perfectly  remarkable, 
but  she  says  he  is  any  amount  more  so." 

"  Really  ? "  Mr.  Morton's  tone  was  un- 
pleasantly sceptical.  "  Well,  I  don't  know 
that  I  ever  paid  a  bill  for  a  tutor  in  languages, 
as  far  as  that  goes." 

"  Oh,  these  aren't  the  kinds  you  study  at 
college,"  Betty  explained,  "  or  at  least  he 
knows  them  too,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  was  think- 
ing of  Dutch  and  Danish  and  Russian  and 
those  queer  kinds.  He  speaks  ten  different 
ones,  I  think  he  said,  and  he  can  understand 
a  few  words  of  some  others." 

"  This  is  all  news  to  me,"  said  Jasper  J. 
Morton  drily.  "  How'd  he  learn  them?" 

"  Down  on  some  wharves  that  you  own, 
he  said.  You  do  own  some  wharves,  don't 
you  ?  " 

Mr.  Morton  puckered  his  lips  into  a  queer 
smile.  "  Well,  I'm  surprised  for  once  in  my 


234      BETTT  WALES,  B.  A. 

life — agreeably  surprised.  I  didn't  suppose 
John  had  any  useful  accomplishments." 

Betty  smiled  engagingly.  "  Well,  as  long 
as  you  didn't  know  about  this  one,  don't  you 
suppose  he  has  lots  of  others  that  you  don't 
know  about,  either  ?  " 

Mr.  Morton  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  So 
you  think  I'm  inclined  to  look  on  the  dark 
side  of  things,  do  you,  Miss  B.  A.  ?  Well, 
I'll  write  the  boy  to-night,  after  I've  scalped 
those  two  railroad  presidents,  and  tell  him 
that  I  hear  good  accounts  of  him.  I  say, 
here  we  are  at  Dinard,  and  actually  there's 
my  chauffeur  waiting  for  me.  Waited  be- 
cause it  was  the  easiest  thing  to  do,  I  sup- 
pose. Now  you  must  let  me  take  you  to 
your  friends,  only  you'll  have  to  ask  the 
way,  because  I  can't." 

As  Betty  waved  him  a  good-bye  from  the 
steps  of  the  Casino  she  thought  sadly  of  a 
great  many  things  she  might  have  said  about 
John  and  hadn't.  "  It's  so  difficult  when 
you've  been  confided  in  and  have  to  re- 
member what  you  mustn't  tell,"  she  thought. 
"  Oh,  dear,  I  meant  to  explain  about  Mr. 
Blake  and  what  I  told  him.  I  forgot  that 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      235 

too.     I  hope  Mr.  Morton  won't  forget  to  write 
the  letter  to  his  son." 

Her  eyes  followed  Mr.  Morton's  big  red 
car  as  it  turned  a  corner,  and  there,  walking 
briskly  toward  her,  his  eyes  absently  fixed 
on  the  ground,  his  cynical  expression  even 
more  pronounced  than  usual,  was  Mr.  Richard 
Blake  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A    "  NEAR-ADVENTURE  " 

JUST  as  Betty  discovered  Mr.  Blake  he 
looked  up  and  discovered  her. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  inquired  gaily, 
striding  across  the  street  and  up  the  steps 
to  shake  hands.  "  I'm  extra  glad  to  see  you 
because  I  regard  your  appearance  as  a  good 
omen.  You've  got  another  scoop  up  your 
sleeve  for  me,  now  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  haven't  found 
Mr.  Morton  yet  ? "  demanded  Betty,  dis- 
pensing with  formal  greetings  in  her  haste 
to  explain  Mr.  Morton's  whereabouts. 
"  Why,  you  just  met  him,  Mr.  Blake.  He 
went  around  that  corner  just  now  in  his 
car." 

"The  mischief  he  did!"  Mr.  Blake 
turned  and  surveyed  the  corner  ruefully. 
"  I  was  thinking  of  somebody — something 
else.  I  didn't  know  a  car  passed  me.  I  say, 

236 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.       237 

I  suppose  you  haven't  any  idea  where  he  was 
going?" 

"  To  Dol.  He  told  me  he  was  staying 
there." 

"  He'll  change  his  mind  on  the  way — I've 
chased  him  long  enough  now  to  know  his 
habits.  Still  it's  worth  trying.  See  here, 
Miss  Wales,  don't  you  want  to  come  along 
and  introduce  me, — or  just  countenance  the 
expedition  by  your  presence  ?  Jasper  J. 
hates  newspaper  men,  and  you  might  be  a 
lot  of  help.  It  won't  take  ten  minutes  to 
round  him  up.  We  can  go  in  that  car."  He 
waved  his  hand  at  one  drawn  up  by  the 
curbing. 

"  Of  course  I'll  come,"  agreed  Betty,  "  only 
I  ought  to  go  in  and  tell  Mrs.  Hildreth  first." 

"  No  time,"  objected  Dick  brusquely. 
"  Every  minute  counts."  He  ran  down 
the  steps  and  began  cranking  the  engine 
vigorously.  "  Get  up  in  front  beside  me,  so  we 
can  talk." 

Betty  hesitated  an  instant  and  then,  re- 
flecting that  ten  minutes  couldn't  matter 
much,  and  wishing  to  be  obliging,  she  jumped 
in.  Mr.  Blake  was  beside  her  in  an  instant, 


238       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

and  before  she  had  had  time  to  button  her 
coat  or  pull  her  veil  tight,  they  were  fairly 
whizzing  down  the  hill. 

"  You  don't  mind  going  fast,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Blake  absently,  his  eyes  on  the 
sharp  rise  beyond. 

Betty's  eyes  sparkled  with  excitement.  "  I 
never  went  fast  enough  yet.  I  didn't  know 
you  had  a  car  with  you,  Mr.  Blake." 

"  Oh,  I  haven't,"  he  explained  quickly. 
"  This  belongs  to  an  old  pal  of  mine — some- 
body you  know,  by  the  way.  Remember 
Mrs.  Bob,  who  chaperoned  Madeline's  house- 
party  ?  Well,  this  is  her  husband's  car.  You 
remember  him,  too,  and  the  awful  daubs  he 
painted?  We  guyed  him  about  them  until 
he  took  it  to  heart  and  went  West  to  make  his 
fortune.  Put  all  his  money  in  a  Texas  oil 
well,  had  beginner's  luck,  and  now  he's  draw- 
ing a  thousand  a  week  from  that  well.  And 
prosperity  has  improved  his  painting,  too,  un- 
til he  turns  out  very  decent  things.  He's 
working  in  the  garden  next  the  Casino  this 
afternoon.  I  was  to  come  for  him  about  this 
time,  and  we  were  going  for  a  little  spin  in 
the  cool  of  the  afternoon." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      239 

"  Won't  he  be  worried  about  his  car?  " 

"  Probably,  if  he  goes  out  to  look  for  it," 
said  Mr.  Blake  calmly.  "  But  he  ought  to  have 
something  to  worry  over.  He's  getting  dis- 
gracefully fat.  Do  you  know,  Miss  Wales,  our 
friend  Jasper  J.  is  going  the  pace  all  right,  if 
that  cloud  of  dust  ahead  is  his  outfit." 

"  We're  catching  up  a  little  though,  aren't 
we  ?  "  asked  Betty  anxiously. 

"  We  certainly  are,"  Dick  assured  her,  "  but 
I'm  afraid  it's  no  ten  minute  job  we've  tackled. 
I  didn't  know  he  was  such  a  reckless  driver. 
I'm  sorry  I  got  you  out  here  on  false  pretences, 
Miss  Wales.  Will  Mrs.  Hildreth  worry  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  I'm  awfully  late,"  said  Betty 
cheerfully.  "  And,  anyway,  we  can't  help  it 
now.  I  certainly  can't  walk  back  and  you 
can't  take  me  back ;  you'd  surely  lose  Mr. 
Morton  if  you  did  that." 

"  Exactly."  Mr.  Blake's  eyes  were  on  the 
white  road  ahead,  and  he  spoke  in  jerky  sen- 
tences, keeping  time  to  the  throb  of  the  ma- 
chine. "  I  should  lose  the  trail,  and  the  last 
chance  of  making  good  on  this  assignment. 
Time's  up  to-morrow,  you  know.  When  I 
met  you  I  was  blue  as  indigo — saw  myself  sail- 


240      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

ing  back  to  New  York  with  my  reputation  for 
being  the  best  sleuth  in  town  knocked  to 
splinters.  So  Mrs.  Hildreth  and  Bob  Enderby 
will  both  have  to  bear  up  as  best  they  can." 

"  It's  queer  how  I've  happened  on  Mr.  Mor- 
ton twice  just  in  time  to  accommodate  you," 
laughed  Betty. 

"  Mighty  lucky  for  me,"  said  Richard 
briefly.  "  You're  cold,  Miss  Wales.  Reach 
under  the  seat  and  you'll  find  something  in 
the  way  of  a  wrap." 

Betty  reached,  and  drew  out  a  leather  coat. 
"  How  stunning  !  "  she  said,  pulling  it  around 
her  shoulders.  i:  Is  it  yours  or  Mr.  En- 
derby's?" 

"  It's  Bob's."  He  turned  to  look.  "  I  say, 
that's  a  new  one  on  me.  Bob's  blossoming 
out  in  awfully  swell  togs  all  of  a  sudden.  He's 
been  sporting  an  old  corduroy  coat  that  his 
wife  wouldn't  have  in  the  studio." 

"  Mr.  Blake,  the  other  car  has  stopped  ! " 
cried  Betty  eagerly. 

"  It  has,  for  sure.  You  certainly  do  bring 
luck,  Miss  Wales  I  Now  here  goes  for  one  last 
desperate  spurt." 

They  dashed  along  the  straight  white  road 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      241 

in  silence,  Betty  wondering  rather  anxiously 
how  Jasper  J.  Morton  would  receive  them, 
Mr.  Blake  intent  on  his  work,  until  suddenly 
he  gave  an  impatient  little  exclamation,  and 
slowing  down,  leaned  forward  to  listen  to  his 
engine. 

"  The  gasoline  can't  be  low,"  he  muttered 
angrily.  "  I  took  her  to  be  filled  myself  and 
Bob  just  ran  her  around  the  town  a  bit  after- 
ward." He  went  slower  still  to  make  sure. 
"  It  is  low,"  he  told  Betty  dejectedly.  "  It's 
horribly  low.  We  shall  be  lucky  if  we  catch 
himwhere  he  is  now.  If  he  starts  onwe'relost." 

"  Oh,  well,  perhaps  he  won't  start  on,"  said 
Betty  cheerfully,  "  at  least  not  if  we  hurry." 

Dick  started  the  car  again.  "  I  say,  but 
you're  game,"  he  declared  admiringly.  "  A 
good  many  girls  would  dislike  the  charming 
prospect  of  having  to  go  home  in  a  Brittany 
farm- wagon."  He  squinted  at  the  big  car 
ahead.  "  Jasper  J.  can't  take  us  back.  He's 
punctured  one  of  his  back  tires.  He'll  be  in 
an  angelic  mood  to  receive  us." 

Betty  gave  a  nervous  little  laugh.  "  That's 
what  I'm  afraid  of." 

Mr.  Blake  sighed.     "I  oughtn't    to  have 


242       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

brought  you,  Miss  Wales — I  don't  see  how  I 
ever  thought  of  such  a  foolish  scheme.  But 
now  that  you're  here  you're  just  to  sit  in  the 
car,  while  I  go  and  inquire  the  way  to  the 
nearest  gasoline  supply,  and  incidentally,  as  I 
inquire,  discover  that  I'm  talking  to  a  man 
I  want  most  awfully  to  see.  It's  all  going  to 
be  beautiful  and  casual,  and  I  shall  refer  to 
you  only  if  everything  else  fails." 

By  this  time  they  were  very  near  Mr.  Mor- 
ton's car,  and  their  own  was  crawling  so  slowly 
that  Mr.  Blake  drew  it  up  by  the  roadside  and, 
tooting  his  horn  a  few  times  by  way  of  en- 
couraging Mr.  Morton  to  wait  for  him,  started 
briskly  off  to  his  interview. 

"  You'll  be  in  plain  sight  of  us,"  he  told 
Betty,  "  so  you  can't  get  lonely,  and  you  can 
have  oceans  of  fun  watching  Jasper  J.  turn  me 
down — or  try  to." 

Betty,  watching  him  go,  wished  she  had 
thought  it  fair  to  tell  him  about  the  railroad 
presidents  who  were  waiting  at  Dol.  "  But  I 
couldn't  do  that,"  she  reflected.  "  I'm  afraid 
I've  told  him  too  much  as  it  is." 

Meanwhile  there  was  a  good  deal  of  excite- 
ment at  the  Dinard  Casino — the  "  high-life 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      243 

Casino,"  so  read  the  tickets  of  admission  and 
the  placard  by  the  door.  It  wasn't  about 
Betty  ;  Mrs.  Hildreth  and  the  girls  had  been 
wondering  about  her  non-appearance,  but  they 
had  scarcely  reached  the  worrying  stage  as  yet. 
The  excitement  had  to  do  with  a  scandal  in 
"  high-life."  A  young  Frenchman  had  driven 
his  car  in  from  a  near-by  chateau,  had  barely 
stepped  inside  the  Casino,  and  come  back  to 
find  the  car  gone.  He  had  immediately  bor- 
rowed a  racing  machine  and  rushed  off  in  hot 
pursuit,  leaving  the  Casino  piazzas  agog  with 
strange  rumors.  These  flew  about  chiefly  in 
French,  but  Madeline  and  Babbie  caught 
snatches  and  told  the  others.  The  most  pic- 
turesque detail  was  the  fact  that  the  Casino's 
porter  had  stood  unsuspectingly  and  watched 
the  thief  and  his  confederate,  a  pretty  young 
girl,  drive  off.  The  girl  had  come  and  stood 
on  the  steps, — looking  in,  supposedly,  to  make 
sure  that  the  coast  was  clear.  She  was  Eng- 
lish or  perhaps  American,  was  young,  with 
curly  golden  hair,  was  dressed  all  in  white, 
and  had  nothing  of  the  air  of  the  adventuress 
about  her.  Madeline  and  Babbie  exchanged 
bewildered  glances,  suppressed  some  details, 


244      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

and  covertly  assured  each  other  that  Betty 
was  too  old  and  too  sensible  to  let  herself  be 
kidnapped  in  broad  daylight.  And  how  other- 
wise should  she  be  helping  to  steal  automo- 
biles ?  It  was  too  ridiculous  ! 

This  was  just  what  an  excited  young  French- 
man, having  stopped  his  racing  car  with  a  skil- 
ful turn  close  beside  her,  and  caught  her  at- 
tention by  a  low  bow  and  a  deferential  "  Par- 
don, Madame,"  was  demanding  of  her  in 
rapid-fire  French,  which  dazzled  poor  Betty's 
mind  into  absolute  blankness. 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  I  don't  understand,"  she 
said  sadly  at  last.  "  That  is,  Je  ne  comprend 
pas.  If  you  can't  speak  English,  you'd  bet- 
ter ask  Mr.  Blake.  Demandez  a  ce  monsieur." 
She  pointed  ahead. 

"  Ah !  "  The  Frenchman's  black  eyes  flashed 
with  pleasure  as  he  noticed  Mr.  Blake.  He 
turned  to  a  man  in  uniform  in  the  tonneau 
and  they  conversed  in  more  rapid-fire  French, 
after  which  the  man  in  uniform  jumped  out 
of  the  Frenchman's  car  and  then  with  another 
"  Pardon,  Madame,"  calmly  climbed  into 
Betty's.  This  was  strange  enough,  but  the 
effect  of  the  Frenchman's  communication  on 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      245 

Mr.  Blake,  who  spoke  French  like  a  native, 
was  even  stranger.  He  listened  a  minute, 
asked  a  quick  question,  and  then  started  on 
the  run  toward  Betty,  with  Jasper  J.  Morton 
panting  behind  him.  When  Mr.  Blake 
started,  the  man  in  uniform  hopped  nimbly 
out  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  as  if 
to  intercept  his  passage,  and  when  he  rushed 
around  to  the  back  of  the  car  the  man  in  uni- 
form was  instantly  beside  him. 

"  It's  true,  all  right,"  he  told  Betty  a  minute 
later,  coming  around  to  her  side.  "  Oh,  you 
didn't  understand?  He  says  I've  stolen  a 
car,  and  I  have.  That's  not  Bob's  number. 
This  car  is  absolutely  like  his  in  every  other 
way — except  for  the  lack  of  gasoline  and  the 
different  coat,  of  course.  And  how  was  I  to 
know  that  Bob  hadn't  squandered  his  gaso- 
line and  bought  a  new  coat?  " 

"  Miss  B.  A. !  Are  you  here  ?  "  cried  Mr. 
Morton,  coming  up  behind  Dick.  "  Then  per- 
haps you'll  be  good  enough  to  explain.  This 
gentleman  asked  me  to  lend  him  gasoline 
enough  to  get  to  a  garage,  and  instead  of  wait- 
ing for  my  answer  he  begins  to  jabber  French 
and  then  runs  off  like  a  madman." 


246      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

11  Why,  we've  stolen  a  car,"  explained  Betty. 
"  That  is,  Mr.  Blake  took  the  wrong  one  by 
mistake,  and  these  people  thought  he  did  it  on 
purpose." 

"  Took  the  wrong  car  by  mistake,"  muttered 
Mr.  Morton.  "  Well,  I  don't  doubt  it,  since 
you  vouch  for  the  gentleman,  but  otherwise  it 
would  look  very  black  to  me.  Is  he  given  to 
making  mistakes  of  that  sort?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Betty  quickly.  "  But  you 
see  we  were  in  such  a  hurry,  and  I  suppose  he 
was  pretty  much  excited  because  it  was  his 
last  chance  and  so  important  and  all " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  commanded  Mr.  Morton 
peremptorily.  "  I  don't  follow  you.  What 
was  your  tremendous  hurry  ?  What  was 
the  gentleman's  last  chance  that  it  was 
of  the  utmost  importance  he  should  uti- 
lize?" 

"Oh,  hadn't  he  told  you?"  asked  Betty. 
"  But  of  course  he  hadn't  had  time  to.  Why — 
please  don't  be  angry,  Mr.  Morton,  but  we 
were  chasing  you.  Mr.  Blake's  newspaper 
sent  him  over  here  to  interview  you,  and  he 
has  missed  you  ever  so  many  times,  and  he 
couldn't  stay  any  longer  than  to-day."  She 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      247 

paused  to  see  what  the  effect  of  her  announce- 
ment would  be. 

"  You  and  a  New  York  reporter  chasing  me 
in  a  stolen  automobile !  A  pretty  story  that 
would  make  !  "  Jasper  J.  Morton's  tone  was 
deeply  indignant.  Then  he  looked  from  Bet- 
ty's solemn  face  to  Mr.  Blake,  who  was  hot 
from  his  run  and  his  valiant  efforts  to  con- 
vince the  Dinard  police  sergeant  of  his  inno- 
cence, then  at  the  Frenchman,  alert  and 
smiling,  as  he  awaited  the  outcome  of  the  dis- 
cussion, and  his  eyes  began  to  twinkle.  "  Does 
he  know  about  those  railroad  presidents  in 
Dol?"  he  demanded,  jerking  his  thumb  to- 
ward Mr.  Blake. 

Betty  explained  that  she  hadn't  considered 
herself  at  liberty  to  tell  Mr.  Blake  that. 

"  Just  chased  me  on  general  principles,"  he 
chuckled.  "Well,  I've  been  chased  pretty 
hard  sometimes,  but  never  by  a  pretty  girl  in 
a  stolen  automobile,  so  far  as  I  remember. 
Hi  there,  young  man,"  he  raised  his  voice. 
"  Come  over  here  and  tell  me  how  all  this 
happened."  Then,  as  Dick  deserted  the  ser- 
geant, he  added,  "  Miss  B.  A.  here  is  trying  to 
make  me  think  that  I'm  to  blame." 


248      BETTT   WALES,   E.  A. 

Dick  laughed.  "  Then  I  suppose  she's  told 
you  that  it  was  awfully  important  to  me  to  see 
you.  If  I  could  just  ask  you  a  few  questions, 
Mr.  Morton,  before  I  go  back  with  this  man, 
I  should  be  everlastingly  obliged.  He  insists 
on  putting  me  under  arrest.  I've  got  a  friend 
in  Dol  who'll  go  bail  for  me,  but  until  then 
the  best  I  can  do  is  to  make  him  let  Miss 
Wales  off."  He  smiled  dejectedly  at  Betty. 

"  Put  you  under  arrest,  indeed  ! "  sniffed 
Jasper  J.  Morton.  "  Why,  it  was  a  clear  case 
of  mistake,  wasn't  it  ?  She  says  it  was.  You've 
got  a  friend  who's  got  a  car  like  that,  haven't 
you  ?  You  can  show  'em — the  car  and  the 
friend — as  soon  as  we  get  into  Dinard.  You'll 
ride  back  with  me,  both  of  you,  if  my  man 
ever  gets  that  puncture  mended."  Jasper  J. 
Morton  pulled  out  a  roll  of  fifty-franc  notes 
and  flourished  them  at  the  sergeant,  who  was 
staring  uncomprehendingly.  "  How  much  do 
you  want,  my  good  fellow  ?  I'll  go  bail,  or 
whatever  you  please  to  call  it.  Ask  him  how 
much  he  wants,  Miss  B.  A.  Where's  your  dic- 
tionary ?  No,"  as  Mr.  Blake  started  forward, 
"  you  wait  a  minute.  She'll  manage  him 
best." 


BETTY  WALE$,B.A.      249 

So  Betty  explained  what  Mr.  Morton  wanted, 
with  frequent  promptings  from  that  impatient 
gentleman  ;  and  the  sergeant,  accepting  a  small 
fee  "  for  the  accommodation,"  agreed  to  take 
the  gentleman's  word  and  his  friend's  word 
that  they  would  both  appear  in  court  at  Din- 
ard,  if,  after  the  aggrieved  Frenchman  had 
seen  Mr.  Bob's  car  and  interviewed  its  owner, 
he  was  not  willing  to  accept  Mr.  Blake's  apol- 
ogy and  withdraw  his  suit.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  all  the  Frenchman  wanted  was  his  car 
back  unharmed ;  he  had  brought  the  police 
sergeant  only  in  case  of  emergency.  And  as 
the  policeman  couldn't  drive  a  car,  he  was 
glad  to  accept  Mr.  Morton's  offer  that  his  chauf- 
feur, who  had  at  last  finished  repairing  the 
tire,  should  put  in  enough  gasoline  from  his 
machine  to  carry  the  stalled  car  to  a  garage 
and  should  then  drive  it  back  to  Dinard. 

"  I'm  going  to  drive  mine  myself,"  Mr. 
Morton  announced.  "  That's  another  thing 
that  my  doctor  told  me  not  to  do,  you  know. 
Blake,  get  in  behind  with  Miss  B.  A." 

But  Betty  protested  that  she  was  tired  and 
wanted  the  tonneau  to  herself.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  sure  that  if  Mr.  Blake  and  Mr. 


250      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Morton  rode  together,  Mr.  Morton  would  never 
be  able  to  resist  telling  about  the  railroad  pres- 
idents cooped  up  in  Dol  waiting  for  him.  And 
sure  enough,  it  was  only  a  few  minutes  before 
she  heard  him  say,  "  That'll  make  a  great  story, 
you  know.  Sleepy  French  town — nothing 
happened  there  for  centuries — doesn't  know 
the  meaning  of  high  finance.  Americans 
choose  it  as  neutral  ground  on  which  to  dis- 
cuss biggest  traffic  coup  in  history.  Wall 
Street  feels  the  shock.  Oh,  I  suppose  you  can 
turn  out  that  sort  of  thing  much  better  than  I 
can.  You  come  over  to  Dol  and  see  the  fun. 
I'll  introduce  you  as  my  secretary.  Can  you 
act  a  little  like  a  secretary?  " 

After  a  while  she  heard  him  ask,  "  Do  you 
always  chase  everything  you  want  as  hard 
as  you  chased  me  ?  I  like  to  see  a  man  chase 
hard." 

Madeline  and  Babe  were  on  the  Casino 
steps  waiting  to  get  the  first  possible  sight  of 
the  crowd  coming  up  from  the  ferry,  for  if 
Betty  didn't  come  on  this  boat  they  were  all 
going  back  to  Saint  Malo  in  the  hope  of  finding 
her  there.  But  before  Betty,  assisted  by  Mr. 
Blake  and  Mr.  Morton,  had  finished  explain-  ; 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      251 

ing  herself,  the  Frenchman,  who  had  waited 
to  pilot  his  own  car  to  a  garage,  came  up,  and 
Madeline  deserted  her  friends  to  rush  at  him 
with  such  a  friendly  greeting  and  such  a  tor- 
rent of  questions  in  French,  that  she  immedi- 
ately became  the  centre  of  interest. 

"  Dick  Blake,"  she  began,  bringing  the  smil- 
ing Frenchman  over  to  the  other  group,  "  do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you've  forgotten  my 
cousin  Edmond,  after  all  the  fun  we  had  to- 
gether in  Paris?  That's  as  bad  as  Edmond's 
having  forgotten  his  English,  so  that  he 
couldn't  tell  Betty  in  plain  terms  that  she  was 
a  thief." 

"Ah,  Madeline!"  He  turned  to  Betty, 
eager  to  deny  such  an  intention,  but  his  face 
fell  and  he  made  a  comical  gesture  of  inade- 
quacy. "It  ez  so  far  away  !  I  cannot  say  my 
meaning." 

"  So  long  ago,  you  mean,  don't  you,  young 
man  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Morton,  eyeing  him  as  if  he 
were  some  sort  of  strange  animal.  "  See  here, 
these  reunions  are  all  very  interesting,  but  I'm 
getting  hungry.  Now,  why  can't  you  all  have 
dinner  with  me  at  that  hotel  over  there? 
Baedeker  says  it's  the  best  in  the  place.  A 


252      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

sort  of  peace  festival,  you  know.  Miss  B.  A., 
suppose  you  take  me  in  and  present  me  to 
Mrs.  Hildreth  and  see  what  she  says  about 
it." 

Babe  had  hurried  in  ahead  of  them  with  the 
news  of  Betty's  safe  return,  without  waiting 
to  have  any  conversation  with  Mr.  Morton. 
But  when  the  dinner  project  was  approved  by 
Mrs.  Hildreth  and  Mr.  Morton  insisted  that 
"  the  little  tomboy  "  must  sit  on  his  left,  Babe 
made  no  objection,  and  she  had  spirited  repar- 
tees ready  for  all  Mr.  Morton's  sallies.  She 
even  went  so  far  as  to  tell  him  about  the  Har- 
vard-Cambridge race  and  ask  him,  as  she  had 
promised  John  she  would,  to  take  her  to  see  it. 

"  Sure  you  won't  throw  me  over  for  a 
younger  beau  ?  "  he  asked  her.  "  He's  likely 
to  be  in  London  then  if  I  am,  you  know." 

But  Babe  only  laughed  unconcernedly,  and 
assured  him  that  she  never,  never  broke  en- 
gagements. 

The  party  separated  early  because,  as  Mr. 
Morton  explained  jovially,  he  and  Mr.  Blake 
had  urgent  business  in  Dol.  Mr.  Blake  had 
managed  to  sit  beside  Madeline  at  dinner, 
and  had  told  her  all  about  his  success  with 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      253 

Mr.  Morton,  and  what  he  hoped  might  come 
of  it. 

"  I  just  must  tell  some  one  or  I'll  burst," 
Blake  confided.  "  Mr.  Morton  has  been 
asking  me  about  the  magazine.  '  If  you  had 
a  hundred  thousand  or  so  and  a  free  hand, 
could  you  win  out  with  it  ?  '  he  asked  me.  So 
who  knows,  Madeline — my  chance  may  have 
come  at  last  1  " 

"  Oh,  Dick,"  Madeline  began,  breathlessly, 

"  wouldn't  that  be I'm  going  to  touch 

wood  right  away,"  she  added,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word.  Dick  laughed,  but  his  eyes 
were  shining  with  a  new  hope  and  purpose. 

"  He  never  mentioned  Eleanor,  of  course," 
Madeline  told  the  others,  as  they  brushed 
their  hair  in  Babe's  room  and  discussed  the 
events  of  the  most  exciting  day  of  the  summer. 
"  But  that's  why  he  cares  so  much.  He  used 
to  be  the  most  indifferent,  blase  person  you 
ever  saw." 

"  What  I  don't  understand,"  said  Babbie, 
carefully  barricading  herself  from  a  storm  of 
pillows,  "  is  why  a  person  who  doesn't  want 
to  see  another  person  as  long  as  she  lives 
should  invite  another  person's  father  to  take 


254      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

her  to  a  boat-race,  knowing  that  another 
person  will  be  there  too." 

"  Your  English  is  mixed,"  retorted  Babe 
with  all  her  customary  levity,  "  but  if  you 
mean  me  and  Mr.  Morton  and  the  race  in 
London,  why  I  promised  to  ask  him  ages 
ago,  and  I  wouldn't  back  down  now  just 
because  John  and  I  were  silly  and  quarreled. 
John  was  your  friend  to  begin  with,  and  if 
he  tags  his  father  to  the  race  you  can  look 
after  him,  I  guess." 

"  I  don't  look  after  men ;  I  let  them  look 
after  me,"  announced  Babbie  with  dignity. 

"  Don't  squabble,"  said  Madeline.  "  I've 
got  an  idea.  I  believe  Arthur  Lestrange 
Trevelyan,  or  Lestrange  Arthur  Trevelyan,  is 
all  right.  Think  how  black  things  looked 
for  Dick  to-day,  with  only  the  thin  excuse 
of  having  made  a  mistake  about  the  automo- 
biles. If  Edmond  had  been  a  bad-tempered 
person  and  the  police  sergeant  had  been  in- 
corruptible, they'd  certainly  have  arrested 
him." 

"  And  Betty  too,"  put  in  Babbie.  "  Think 
of  poor  innocent  little  Betty's  being  ar- 
rested !  " 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      255 

"He  must  be  all  right — Mr.  Trevelyan, 
I  mean,"  suggested  Babe,  "  because  as  soon 
as  John  got  your  letter,  he  and  Mr.  Benson 
would  have  gone  to  work  to  find  out  about 
him,  and  if  he  hadn't  been  all  right  they'd 
certainly  have  written  to  us  before  this." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  bed,"  said  Betty, 
yawning  vigorously.  "  I'm  sleepy,  and  if 
your  cousin  is  going  to  take  us  automobiling 
all  day  to-morrow  and  comes  for  us  as  early 
as  he  said,  we've  got  to  be  up  betimes." 

"  Too  true,"  agreed  Madeline.  "  But  please 
don't  hold  us  responsible  for  the  strenuous  life 
we're  leading.  It's  all  your  fault,  Miss  B.  A." 

"  I  didn't  do  a  single  thing  I  could  help," 
protested  Betty. 

But  Madeline  insisted  gaily  that  it  had 
all  been  a  preconceived  plan  on  Betty's  part 
to  make  her  dominant  interest  fill  most 
space  in  the  annals  of  "  B.  A.'s  Abroad." 

"  You  began  with  mild  little  benevolent 
adventures,"  she  said,  "  and  now  you've  had 
what  Roberta  Lewis  would  call  a  near-ad- 
venture. Next  thing  you  know  you'll  plunge 
us  all  into  a  real  adventure — the  kind  you 
read  about  in  novels." 


256      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

"Wouldn't  that  be  great?"  sighed  Babe 
sleepily.  "  Now  please  run  away  and  let  me 
have  a  little  peace." 

But  Madeline  and  Babbie  were  still  wide 
awake.  They  sat  on  the  edge  of  poor 
Babe's  bed  for  an  hour  longer  inventing 
"real  adventures"  that  should  materialize  in 
Paris. 

"  The  thing  we  need  is  an  adventurer," 
complained  Madeline  sadly,  "  that  is,  unless 
Mr.  Trevelyan  will  '  oblige  with  the  part/  as 
they  say  at  actors'  benefits.  We'll  ask  Ed- 
mond  about  the  haunts  of  adventurers.  Per- 
haps he'll  be  able  to  put  us  on  the  track  of 
a  king  in  exile  looking  for  an  American 
wife,  or  a  prime  minister  watching  for  a  lady 
to  drop  her  handkerchief  as  a  signal  that  she 
is  his  fellow  conspirator.  You  see  I  have  to 
leave  you  in  Paris  and  I  do  want  a  grand  ex- 
citement of  some  sort  before  I  go." 

"  Paris  gowns  are  quite  exciting,"  suggested 
Babbie,  dragging  Madeline  off  to  bed  at  last. 
"  I'm  not  counting  on  the  ball,  because  it's  so 
uncertain." 

"  Why  how  stupid  of  us  to  have  forgotten 
the  ball,"  began  Madeline  eagerly.  "  We 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      257 

could  start  a  perfectly  magnificent  adventure 
with  that." 

But  Babbie  put  her  fingers  over  her  ears  and 
ran  away.  "  It's  awfully  late,"  she  explained, 
"  and  besides,  I  shall  want  to  go  to  the  dance 
more  than  ever  if  you  make  up  a  lovely  story 
about  it.  So  good-night." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  KEAL  ADVENTURE 

MADELINE'S  cousin  Edmond,  who  was  mo- 
toring about  Brittany  with  a  friend,  took  the 
girls  to  the  quaint  old  shrine  of  Mount  St. 
Michel  and  promised  them  other  expeditions 
equally  delightful  if  they  would  only  stay  on 
for  a  few  days  longer  at  Saint  Malo  or  Dinard. 
But  Mrs.  Hildreth  felt  anxious  to  get  to  Paris, 
which  was  really  the  goal  of  all  her  trips 
abroad,  and  Babbie  had  her  own  reason — the 
countess's  ball, — for  not  wanting  their  ar- 
rival delayed  beyond  the  appointed  day. 
Babe  couldn't  have  explained  even  to  herself 
why  she  wanted  to  be  in  Paris,  but  she  did. 
And  Betty  and  Madeline,  not  wishing  to  be  in 
the  opposition  and  being  sure  of  a  good  time 
either  way,  were  perfectly  satisfied  with  Mrs. 
Hildreth's  decision  to  go  on  just  as  they  had 
intended. 

"  And  we'll  go  to  Madeline's  pension,  shan't 
258 


BETTY    WALES,  B.A.      259 

we,  mummie?  "  asked  Babbie,  a  trifle  anxious 
lest  Mrs.  Hildreth  should  insist  on  the  hotel 
where  she  always  stayed. 

"  And  it's  just  as  ordinary  and  commonplace 
as  if  it  were  in  New  York,"  Babbie  had  told 
the  girls  sadly,  with  a  newly  awakened  per- 
ception that  her  traveling  had  hitherto  been 
of  a  very  commonplace  variety.  But  Mrs. 
Hildreth  only  asked  what  were  the  especial 
merits  of  Madeline's  pension. 

"  She  won't  tell,"  explained  Babbie,  looking 
beseechingly  at  Madeline,  who  only  returned 
a  serene  smile.  "  She  just  says  it's  queer  and 
quaint  and  the  kind  of  thing  we  all  like,  and 
that  we  can  see  what  it's  like,  if  we  go  there." 

"  But  if  we  don't  go  there,  you  simply  must 
describe  it,  Madeline,"  said  Betty  so  solemnly 
that  Mrs.  Hildreth  laughed  and  declared  they 
would  patronize  Madeline's  pension. 

Finally,  after  a  long  day's  ride  in  the  Paris 
express  and  a  drive  across  the  city  in  the  queer 
taximeter  cabs — where  you  sit  and  watch  the 
distance  and  the  francs  for  the  fare,  pile  up  in 
the  indicator  and  forget,  in  the  absorbing  in- 
terest of  this  occupation,  to  look  around  you 
at  the  sights  of  the  strange  city — the  driver 


26o      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

of  the  first  cab  stopped  before  a  blank  wall  in 
a  narrow,  rather  dirty  street.  Upon  being 
admonished  by  Babbie  that  he  was  wrong  he 
pointed  inexorably  at  the  number  on  the  wall, 
and  even  Babe,  most  ardent  admirer  of  Made- 
line's theories,  gave  a  gasp  of  dismay.  The 
two  girls  were  with  Mrs.  Hildreth,  while  Betty 
and  Madeline  were  behind,  and  Marie  was  in 
a  third  carriage  with  most  of  the  baggage. 

"  Careful,  Babe,"  Mrs.  Hildreth  whispered. 
"  We  don't  want  to  hurt  Madeline's  feelings — 
nor  Mademoiselle's."  For  Madeline  had 
written  ahead  for  rooms,  and  when  the  porter 
opened  the  door  in  the  high  and  dingy  wall, 
a  pretty  Frenchwoman  was  running  across 
the  graveled  courtyard  inside,  eager  to  greet 
her  guests. 

"  We'll  stay  here  to-night,"  Mrs.  Hildreth 
decided  hastily,  "  and  then  in  the  morning  I 
can  easily  make  an  excuse  to  change." 

Mademoiselle  was  certainly  charming,  if  her 
front  door — or  front  gate — was  not.  Smiling 
and  chatting,  she  led  the  way  across  the  court 
to  the  old  stone  mansion  and  helped  her  two 
little  maids  show  the  party  up-stairs  and  settle 
each  one's  baggage  in  the  room  she  chose. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.       261 

Madeline,  Babe  and  Betty  had  single  rooms, 
all  looking  out  on  still  another  court.  This 
one  was  shut  in  on  three  sides  by  ivy-covered 
stone  walls,  and  shaded  by  a  great  magnolia 
tree  ;  and  enticing  little  green  tables,  like  those 
in  the  cafes  at  Saint  Malo,  stood  about  here  and 
there.  The  rooms  themselves  were  long  and 
narrow — -just  like  cells,  Babe  declared  with  a 
shiver — and  as  soon  as  she  was  dressed  she 
went  down  into  the  courtyard  to  wait  for  din- 
ner. When  the  girls  found  her  she  was  sitting 
on  the  gravel  scratching  the  back  of  a  big  turtle, 
which,  she  joyously  informed  her  friends,  was 
attraction  number  one  of  Madeline's  pen- 
sion. 

"  Its  name  is  Virginia — no,  that's  not  right. 
What's  the  French  of  Virginia  ?  Virginie, 
then.  And  it  knows  its  name,  only  it  won't 
answer  unless  it  knows  you.  At  least,  that's 
what  I  understood  Mademoiselle  to  say.  I'm 
scratching  its  back  so  beautifully  that  it  ought 
to  follow  me  around  like  a  dog  hereafter." 

Attraction  number  two  was  a  very  good  din- 
ner, and  attraction  number  three  was  going  to 
bed  by  candle-light,  which  made  the  tiny 
rooms  seem  more  like  cells  than  ever.  But 


262       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Betty  suggested  that  they  were  more  like  nuns' 
cells  than  prisoners',  and  Babe  said  she  liked 
the  idea  of  being  a  nun — it  was  very  much 
like  being  a  man-hater  when  you  came  to 
think  of  it. 

Attraction  number  four  was  the  best  of  all ; 
it  was  having  breakfast  in  the  garden.  Mad- 
emoiselle had  explained  that  they  could  have 
"  petite  dejeuner,"  which  means  coffee  or 
chocolate  and  crusty  rolls,  whenever  they 
liked,  and  they  had  all  agreed  to  be  ready  at 
half-past  eight — which  is  really  very  early  in- 
deed in  Europe — so  as  to  have  a  long  day  for 
sightseeing.  Betty  got  down  first  and  was 
going  into  the  dining-room  to  wait  for  the 
others,  when  a  servant  asked  her  to  sit  in  the 
garden  instead,  and  before  she  knew  what  was 
happening,  her  breakfast  appeared  on  a  tray. 
Just  then  Babe  pulled  back  her  curtains  and 
stuck  her  head  out  of  the  window  to  see  how 
the  garden  looked  so  early ;  and  giving  a 
shriek  of  delight,  she  rushed  down  to  eat,  too. 
Mrs.  Hildreth  hadn't  been  much  im- 
pressed by  Virginie  or  the  candles,  but  she  was 
as  delighted  as  the  girls  with  breakfast  under 
the  magnolia  tree,  and  she  readily  agreed  to 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      263 

wait  a  little  before  deserting  Madeline's  pen- 
sion. 

The  first  thing  that  every  one  wanted  to  do 
after  breakfast  was  to  call  at  the  American  Ex- 
press Office  for  mail.  It  had  been  accumulat- 
ing ever  since  they  left  London,  so  there  was 
plenty  to  go  around — letters  and  papers  from 
home  for  all  the  party,  and  for  Babbie  a  note 
from  Billy  Benson. 

"  He  got  here  last  night,  too,"  she  explained, 
"  and  he's  still  with  Mr.  Trevelyan,  so  evi- 
dently it's  all  right  about  the  name.  He 
wants  our  address  and  says  he'll  be  around 
to  see  us  late  this  afternoon,  and  possibly  Mr. 
Trevelyan's  sister  may  come,  too.  He  was  tel- 
ephoning her  while  Billy  wrote.  Oh,  dear,  I 
don't  believe  mother's  going  to  want  me  to  go 
to  the  dance,  after  all.  But  I'll  answer  this  so 
they'll  know  where  to  find  us." 

Initiating  Betty  and  Babe  into  the  delights 
of  Paris  was  an  exciting  task,  and  by  the  mid- 
dle of  the  afternoon  they  were  all  quite  ready 
to  go  home,  put  on  their  thinnest  dresses,  and 
drink  iced  tea  under  the  magnolia  tree  while 
they  waited  for  the  advent  of  Billy  and  Mr. 
Trevelyan.  It  was  ^six  o'clock,  however,  be- 


264      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

fore  the  men  arrived,  hot,  tired,  and  in  Billy's 
case,  somewhat  out  of  temper. 

"  It's  an  awfully  out-of-the-way  street,"  he 
complained.  "  Why,  Trevelyan  knows  Paris 
like  a  book,  but  he  couldn't  find  it.  We've 
walked  and  walked  and  asked  and  asked.  We 
were  late  starting  in  the  first  place,  though, 
because  Trevelyan's  sister  didn't  come." 

"  It's  very  odd,"  Mr.  Trevelyan  put  in. 
"  She  was  to  have  come  to  our  hotel  at  three, 
after  doing  some  shopping  with  her  friend. 
It  was  perfectly  understood,  but  we  waited 
till  four  and  she  did  not  come.  I  am  sure 
only  some  unavoidable  accident  has  prevented 
her  joining  us." 

"  Surely  your  mother  will  let  you  go  all 
the  same  to-morrow  ?  "  Billy  asked  Babbie. 

Babbie  looked  doubtful.  "  I  don't  know. 
Not  that  she  would  blame  your  sister,  Mr. 
Trevelyan  ;  but  she's  awfully  particular  about 
chaperons  and  she  isn't  strong  enough  to 
chaperon  me  to  dances  and  things  herself. 
She's  lying  down  now,  but  I'll  write  you  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  Will  that  be 
soon  enough  to  decide  ?  " 

"  Sure,"  said  Billy  gaily,  "  only  we  thought 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      265 

— Trevelyan  has  errands  to  do  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  he  suggested  that  we  meet  in  the 
early  part  of  the  afternoon  for  a  little  sight- 
seeing. You  could  let  us  know  then,  you 


see." 


"  If  you  haven't  been  to  the  Louvre  yet, 
we  might  have  a  look  at  that  together," 
suggested  Mr.  Trevelyan  gravely.  "  I  under- 
stand some  of  the  finest  galleries  are  to  be 
closed  next  week  for  repairs." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  warned  us  in  time," 
said  Madeline.  "  I'm  always  missing  things 
at  the  Louvre  because  they're  closed  for  re- 
pairs. Where  shall  we  meet  and  when?" 

Mr.  Trevelyan  suggested  two  o'clock,  at 
the  main  entrance  by  the  umbrella  stand, 
and  then  he  rose  to  go.  "  I  am  worried 
about  my  sister.  If  she  has  sent  no  word  I 
must  wire,"  he  said. 

Billy  rose  too.  "  I  should  never  find  my 
way  back  alone,"  he  said.  "  I'm  dumb  as 
an  oyster  over  here.  It's  great  being  with 
some  one  who  knows  the  ropes." 

The  girls  protested  against  their  going  so 
soon,  when  they  had  expended  so  much  time 
and  trouble  in  coming,  but  Mr.  Trevelyan 


266       BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

insisted  that  he  must  get  back  at  once,  and 
Billy  laughingly  declared  that  the  girls  would 
have  to  see  him  safely  home  if  he  stayed  and 
then  he  would  have  to  see  them  safely  back, 
and  so  ad  infinitum. 

When  Babbie  consulted  her  mother  about 
the  dance,  Mrs.  Hildreth  listened  to  the  story 
of  the  boys'  call,  and  after  a  little  consider- 
ation decided  that  she  couldn't  allow  Babbie 
to  go. 

"Billy  is  a  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "and  his 
friend  seems  a  thoroughly  nice  fellow,  but 
I  couldn't  think  of  letting  you  go  to  a  dance 
with  them  out  in  some  suburb  of  Paris,  unless 
I  knew  you  were  in  charge  of  a  sensible,  care- 
ful chaperon.  Mr.  Trevelyan's  sister  may  or 
may  not  answer  the  description.  We  have 
no  idea  how  old  she  is,  or  what  sort  of  person 
she  is,  or  whether  she  even  understands  from 
her  brother  that  you  would  be  in  her  charge. 
Evidently  you  wouldn't  be  while  you  were 
going  and  coming.  Oh,  it's  quite  impos- 
sible." 

And  Babbie  admitted  sadly  that  it  was. 
She  brightened  at  once,  however.  "  If  I'm 
as  sleepy  to-morrow  night  as  I  am  to-night, 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      267 

I  shouldn't  enjoy  it.  After  all,  you  can  go 
to  plenty  of  dances  at  home,  and  you  can't 
go  to  these  fascinating  galleries  and  museums 
and  churches.  I  should  waste  to-morrow  and 
perhaps  the  day  after  if  I  went  to  the  dance. 
Now  I  can  go  ahead  and  get  as  tired  as  I  like 
seeing  things." 

So  Babbie  and  Madeline  conducted  the 
novices  to  Notre  Dame,  took  them  up  in  the 
tower  to  get  a  near  view  of  the  gargoyles,  and 
then  hunted  up  the  shop  on  the  Rue  Bona- 
parte where  you  can  buy  small  plaster  gar- 
goyles, exactly  like  those  on  the  cathedral 
for  two  francs  and  fifty  centimes  each.  It 
took  so  long  to  decide  which  Roberta  would 
prefer,  and  which  was  best  suited  to  K.'s  taste 
and  to  Rachel's,  that  the  girls  had  to  snatch 
a  hasty  luncheon  at  an  English  tea-room  near 
the  Louvre  in  order  to  be  at  the  appointed 
rendezvous  by  two  o'clock.  But  they  did  get 
there  exactly  at  the  appointed  time,  in  spite 
of  a  little  dispute  between  Babbie  and  Made- 
line about  which  was  the  "  main  entrance  " 
to  the  Louvre.  However,  Babbie  was  speedily 
convinced  that  the  main  entrance  was  the 
one  that  had  been  built  for  the  main  entrance 


268      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

— the  one  with  the  splendid  fagade  and  not 
the  one  at  the  opposite  side  that  happened  to 
be  more  conveniently  situated  and  was  con- 
sequently most  used  by  visitors.  However, 
when  they  had  waited  fifteen  minutes  and 
the  men  had  not  appeared,  the  subject  began 
to  be  agitated  again. 

"  Well,  what  does  it  matter  ?  "  demanded 
Babbie,  who  hated  to  be  kept  waiting  and  was 
consequently  rather  out  of  temper.  "  They 
can  reason  the  thing  out  just  as  well  as  we 
can.  If  they've  gone  to  the  other  entrance 
and  don't  find  us  there,  they  can  come  here. 
It's  their  place  to  find  us,  not  ours  to  hunt  for 
them." 

"  I  think  it's  silly  to  stick  here,  just  the 
same,"  said  Babe.  "  Why  don't  Madeline  and 
I  walk  through  to  the  other  entrance  and  see 
if  they're  there?" 

"  Because  they  ought  to  do  the  walking," 
persisted  Babbie.  "  They  asked  us  to  come 
and  meet  them,  and  anyhow  it's  always  the 
man's  place  to  do  the  hunting.  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  have  you  chase  up  Billy  Benson  to  tell 
him  whether  or  not  he's  going  to  take  me  to  a 
dance  to-night." 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      269 

Whereupon  Madeline  murmured  that  it  was 
Babbie's  party,  not  hers,  and  Babe  and  Betty 
declared  they  would  wait  until  exactly  quarter 
to  three  and  then  they  were  going  to  see  the 
Mona  Lisa. 

And  at  quarter  to  three  they  went,  Bab- 
bie giving  a  reluctant  consent  to  their  making 
a  detour  past  the  other  possible  rendezvous. 
But  Billy  and  Mr.  Trevelyan  were  not  there, 
and  when  Madeline  inquired  of  the  very  stolid 
guard  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
said  there  had  been  any  number  of  young  men 
passing  in  since  two  o'clock.  Some  had  waited, 
some  not. 

"  Seems  to  me  Mr.  Trevelyan  isn't  such  a 
good  conductor  as  he  has  the  reputation  for  be- 
ing," said  Betty.  "  Yesterday  he  didn't  meet 
his  sister,  and  nearly  didn't  find  us,  and  to-day 
his  arrangements  haven't  worked  out  very 
well." 

"  Well,  fortunately  it  doesn't  matter,"  said 
Babbie,  sitting  down  with  a  rapturous  little 
sigh  before  the  Mona  Lisa.  "The  pictures 
are  here,  and  after  we've  seen  a  few  we  can  go 
and  have  some  of  those  little  boat-shaped  straw- 
berry tarts  that  we  saw  in  the  patisserie  win- 


270      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

dow.     If  they'd  taken  us  somewhere  to  eat  we 
should    probably   have   had    to   have   stupid 


ices." 


"  And  the  moral,  as  our  friend  M:iry  would 
say,"  laughed  Madeline,  "  is  that  when  you're 
hunting  alone  you  can  do  as  you  please,  which 
is  an  advantage  that  our  friend  Mary  has  for- 
ever forfeited.  Who  votes  to  have  the  straw- 
berry tarts  soon  ?  " 

"  Maxim  for  travelers,"  said  Babe,  deject- 
edly, " '  when  you've  had  enough,  stop,'  and 
enough  is  what  you  can  see  in  just  a  little 
more  than  half  a  day." 

So  the  girls  had  crossed  the  Seine  on  the 
top  of  a  lumbering  tram,  and  walked  from  the 
Louxembourg  Gardens,  where  a  concert  was 
going  on,  to  the  queer  little  street  where  Mad- 
eline's pension  was  hidden  ;  and  they  had 
cooled  off,  rested,  and  dressed  for  dinner  be- 
fore a  maid  brought  Babbie  a  card — Billy 
Benson's. 

"  Ask  him  into  the  garden  and  say  I'll  be 
there  in  a  moment,"  Babbie  ordered,  and  went 
down  after  a  perfectly  needless  delay,  by  way 
of  preliminary  discipline,  prepared  to  receive 
Billy's  excuses  coldly  and  to  give  him  a  very 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      271 

unhappy  quarter  of  an  hour  in  return  for  the 
annoyance  he  had  caused  her  earlier  in  the 
afternoon. 

But  Billy  made  no  excuses.  Instead  he  an- 
nounced blandly,  "  Well,  I'm  two  hundred 
dollars  poorer  than  I  was  last  night  and  a 
good  deal  wiser,  and  I  feel  like  a  young  idiot; 
but  it  certainly  makes  a  good  story,  if  that's 
any  consolation." 

Babbie  stared.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  Why 
aren't  you  on  your  way  to  your  dance?" 

Billy  grinned.  "  Dance  is  off — that  is, 
Trevelyan  is  dancing  somewhere,  I  guess,  but 
all  I  get  is  a  chance  to  pay  the  piper.  You 
see,  it  was  this  way — well,  I'll  have  to  begin 
with  this  morning." 

"  Wait,"  commanded  Babbie,  crossing  to 
Babe's  window  and  giving  the  B's  familiar 
trill.  "  Come  down,  all  three  of  you,"  she 
called,  when  Babe's  head  appeared  between 
the  curtains.  "  Mr.  Benson  has  had  a  real 
adventure,  and  we're  on  the  edge  of  it  our- 
selves." 

"  You're  the  causes  of  the  final  catastrophe," 
accused  Billy  smilingly,  as  Babbie  came  back 
to  him.  "  If  you'd  made  the  proper  connec- 


272      BETTY  WALES,  B.  A. 

tions  with  us  this  afternoon,  Trevelyan  couldn't 
have  pulled  off  his  grand  denouement.  Where 
were  you,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Right  where  we  belonged,"  said  Babbie 
firmly.  "  You  begin  with  this  morning,  and 
we'll  fill  in  our  part  when  the  time  comes." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  NOISY  PARISIAN  GHOST 

"  MAKES  me  feel  like  the  greenest  variety  of 
green  freshman,"  said  Billy,  when  he  had 
shaken  hands  all  around,  "  but  still  I  do  think 
he  managed  awfully  well,  and  that  he'd  have 
taken  in  almost  anybody  with  his  smooth 
stories.  Of  course  I  haven't  traveled  much, 
but  still " 

"  Do  go  ahead  and  tell  us  about  his  taking 
your  money,"  begged  Babbie  impatiently, 
"  and  then  we  can  discuss  him  to  our  hearts' 
content." 

Billy  nodded  assent.  "Well,"  he  began, 
"  you  all  know  about  our  coming  over  to  Paris 
together.  Naturally,  as  I  can't  speak  French, 
Trevelyan  chose  the  hotel — one  he  knew  about 
on  the  Rue  de  Rivoli — and  our  rooms  opened 
together."  Billy  chuckled.  "  I  thought  of 
that  when  I  gave  him  the  money.  Made  me 
feel  extra  sure  about  getting  it  back." 

273 


274      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  Do  go  straight  along,"  commanded  Bab- 
bie. "  If  you  don't  you'll  never  get  to  the 
robbery  part." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  a  robbery,"  laughed  Billy. 
"  It  was  something  much  smoother.  I'll  get 
to  it  in  a  minute.  You  know  already  about 
our  going  sightseeing  yesterday  and  then  com- 
ing here.  Well,  when  we  got  home  there  was 
a  note  from  Trevelyan's  missing  sister."  Billy 
paused.  "  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  didn't  see  that 
note.  But  if  I  had,  it  might  have  been  faked 
just  the  same.  Anyhow  Trevelyan  said  there 
was  a  note  from  his  sister  to  say  that  the 
countess  was  prostrated  by  the  heat,  and 
they'd  had  to  hurry  home  right  after  lunch. 
That  sounded  perfectly  reasonable.  It  was  a 
beastly  hot  day,  and  of  course  if  the  countess 
was  sick,  somebody  had  to  go  home  with  her. 
The  sister  said  also  that  she  was  beginning  to 
be  in  a  hurry  to  get  into  her  own  house,  and 
Trevelyan  said  that  if  I  didn't  mind  he 
guessed  we'd  better  do  a  little  shopping  this 
morning.  It  seems  that  his  sister  had  ordered 
different  things  for  the  house  put  aside  for  his 
approval,  and  he  was  to  go  to  the  shops  and 
look  at  them  and  have  them  sent  out."  Billy 


RETTT   WALES,  B.A.      275 

paused  reflectively.  "  Sounds  reasonable 
enough,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

The  girls  nodded.  "  Do  go  on,"  urged 
Madeline. 

"  Well,"  Billy  took  up  the  tale,  "  this 
morning  we  started  out  in  a  taximeter  cab. 
First  we  went  to  two  or  three  big  stores  and 
Trevelyan  looked  at  rugs  and  curtains  and 
one  thing  and  another  that  his  sister  had 
selected  and  ordered  them  sent  out  to  their 
house.  At  least  he  said  so.  My  not  speaking 
French  made  me  an  easy  mark  for  any  tale 
he  wanted  to  tell  me.  Once  or  twice  he 
counted  his  money  to  see  if  he  had  enough  to 
do  one  more  errand  with  before  we  went  to 
the  bank.  It  was  too  early  to  go  when  we 
started." 

"  Did  he  actually  pay  for  the  curtains  and 
things  ?  "  asked  Babe. 

Billy  hesitated.  "  I — well,  I  guess  I  didn't 
notice.  Judging  by  the  sequel  I'm  pretty 
sure  he  didn't.  But  he  pretended  that  he 
had,  and  finally  he  said  we  must  go  to  the 
bank  next.  I  waited  in  the  carriage.  When 
he  came  back  he  was  awfully  put  out.  It 
seems  there  is  a  rule  in  this  town  that  you 


276      BETTY  WALES,  B.A. 

can't  draw  money  from  a  bank — from  that 
one  where  he  had  his  account  anyway — until 
you've  been  here  three  days.  Something  to 
do  with  the  police  regulations  about  foreign 
visitors.  His  three  days  wouldn't  be  up  till 
to-morrow,  so  he  couldn't  draw  any  money. 
He  said  he'd  known  the  rule  before  but  he'd 
forgotten  about  it." 

"  Well,  couldn't  his  shopping  wait  a  day  ?  " 
asked  Babe. 

"All  but  one  item,"  answered  Billy 
solemnly.  "  You  see  the  ball  to-night  was  to 
be  in  honor  of  his  sister's  birthday,  and  he 
wanted  to  take  her  a  birthday  present. 
She'd  chosen  that,  too,  at  his  request,  and 
we  went  to  look  at  it.  It  was  a  beauty  of 
a  pearl  pendant.  Trevelyan  told  the  shop- 
keeper how  he  was  fixed,  and  ordered  the 
pendant  kept  for  him  until  to-morrow. 
Naturally  I  asked  if  I  couldn't  accommodate 
him  with  a  little  loan,  so  we  could  take  the 
pendant  out  with  us  to-night.  But  he  thanked 
me  and  said  he  couldn't  think  of  borrowing 
of  me,  and  we  drove  off.  He  was  awfully 
cut  up  about  the  pendant,  though  he  kept 
saying  it  didn't  matter  at  all,  only,  as  he  put 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      277 

it,  '  You  know  how  women  are  about  such 
things.  They  like  a  present  at  the  time.  If 
they're  going  to  have  a  birthday,  they  want 
their  gifts  on  the  day.  By  the  next  day 
they've  forgotten  all  about  it.'  But  this  time 
it  couldn't  be  helped,  he  said,  and  it  didn't 
really  matter.  And  then  he'd  remark  again 
that  he  was  afraid  his  sister  would  be  awfully 
disappointed,  especially  as  he'd  made  a  point 
of  her  picking  out  the  pendant  and  all.  But 
when  I  offered  to  lend  him  some  money  again, 
he  seemed  almost  hurt  and  refused  quick  as  a 
flash.  Finally  he  changed  the  subject,  said  it 
was  a  shame  to  make  me  waste  a  morning  in 
Paris  over  his  private  affairs,  and  asked  me 
where  we  should  go  sightseeing.  It  made  me 
feel  awfully  small  to  think  how  considerate 
and  unselfish  he  was,  and  I  pulled  out  all  the 
money  I  had  and  fairly  forced  it  into  his 
hands.  He  seemed  pleased  and  thanked  me 
but  said  it  wouldn't  be  any  use  to  him  because 
it  wasn't  enough.  The  pendant  cost  fifty 
pounds,  and  he  needed  forty  to  make  up  what 
he  had.  So  I  thought  how  we  were  to  be  to- 
gether all  the  afternoon  at  the  Louvre  with 
you  girls  and  at  the  ball  in  the  evening,  and 


278      BETTT  WALES,  E.A. 

then  sleeping  in  adjoining  rooms,  and  in  the 
morning  he  could  get  his  money  all  right. 
So  I  stuffed  my  beggarly  thirty  dollars  into 
my  pocket,  and  told  him  to  tell  the  man  to 
drive  straight  to  the  American  Express,  so  I 
could  get  two  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  checks 
cashed." 

"  And  that  time  he  didn't  object?"  asked 
Betty. 

Billy  shook  his  head.  "  Told  me  I  was  a 
good  fellow,  wrung  my  hand  till  it  ached,  and 
assured  me  that  it  was  only  a  day's  loan  or  he 
wouldn't  think  of  taking  it.  Then  we  got 
the  money,  had  a  gay  little  lunch,  and 
stopped  at  our  hotel  on  our  way  to  meet  you. 
I  didn't  go  in.  Trevelyan  wanted  to  change 
his  coat  for  a  lighter  one,  because  it  had 
turned  so  hot.  He  stopped  for  the  mail  to  be 
distributed,  so  he  was  gone  some  minutes,  and 
we  were  ten  minutes  late  in  meeting  you." 

"  And  then  you  went  to  the  wrong  place," 
said  Babbie  severely. 

"  You  can't  blame  me  for  that,"  returned 
Billy.  "  I  asked  right  away  if  there  could  be 
any  mistake  about  the  meeting-place  and 
Trevelyan  said  no.  Later  he  explained  that 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      279 

there  was  another  principal  entrance,  though 
he  didn't  suppose  any  one  would  consider  it 
the  main  one,  and  he  suggested  that  I  wait 
while  he  went  to  look  for  you  at  the  other  en- 
trance and  in  some  of  the  galleries.  He'd 
been  gone  about  five  minutes  when  I  remem- 
bered my  two  hundred  dollars,  saw  through 
his  little  game,  and  started  in  hot  pursuit." 

"  And  he  got  away  ?  "  demanded  Madeline 
eagerly. 

"  Without  trying.  You  see,  he'd  packed  up 
his  traps  while  he  waited  for  the  mail  to  be 
distributed,  and  he  had  probably  kept  the  cab 
waiting  to  drive  him  back  to  our  hotel  when- 
ever he  managed  to  shake  me  off.  It's  almost 
across  from  the  Louvre  and  I  didn't  see  a  cab, 
so  I  ran.  But  when  I  got  there  he  was  gone, 
bag  and  baggage — by  a  back  way  at  that,  so 
the  hotel  has  lost  a  little  to  keep  me  company. 
It  was  a  perfectly  reliable  hotel,  you  under- 
stand— one  of  the  first  few  in  Baedeker." 

"And  have  you  been  to  the  police?" 
asked  Babe  excitedly.  "  They  ought  to  help 
you  catch  him." 

Billy  smiled  delightedly.  "Then  you  don't 
see  the  joke,  either.  The  hotel  people  prom- 


280      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

ised  to  inform  the  police,  and  I  went  to  see  the 
American  consul.  He  put  me  on  to  the  fact 
that  I  haven't  a  thing  against  Trevelyan.  I 
lent  him  the  money  voluntarily — pressed  it 
upon  him,  in  fact.  The  police  can't  help  me. 
I've  '  done  '  myself." 

"You're  awfully  cheerful  about  it,"  said 
Madeline  approvingly. 

"I  wasn't  at  first,"  laughed  Billy,  "  but  it's 
such  a  good  story — or  it  would  be  if  we  knew 
all  the  fine  points,  such  as  whether  or  not 
there  is  a  sister  or  a  countess." 

"  But  he  telephoned  the  sister,"  suggested 
Babe. 

"  May  have  telephoned  thin  air,"  said  Billy. 
"  It  was  in  a  booth,  so  no  one  knows  what  he 
did." 

"  But  the  countess  sent  the  invitation,"  put 
in  Betty. 

"  And  I  saw  Trevelyan  mail  the  answer," 
added  Billy.  "But  he  may  have  redirected 
it  on  the  sly  to  some  of  his  confederates.  He 
must  have  at  least  one  in  Paris,  I  think,  to 
manage  getting  the  mail  back  and  forth." 

"  Do  you  still  think  it's  all  right  about  his 
having  two  names  ?  "  asked  Babbie.  "  Did 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      281 

you  depend  on  what  he  told  you  about  that, 
or  did  you  make  other  inquiries  ?  " 

"  About  his  having  two  names  ?  "  repeated 
Billy  questioningly. 

"  The  two  that  Betty  wrote  John  about," 
Babbie  reminded  him. 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  you're  talk- 
ing about,"  Billy  persisted.  When  Betty 
had  explained,  he  assured  her  that  John 
never  got  her  letter.  "  But  Trevelyan 
must  have  counted  on  your  letting  ug 
know,"  he  said.  "  Gee  !  but  he  had  nerve  to 
keep  on  when  he  knew  he  was  suspected.  I 
wonder — do  you  suppose  that  had  anything  to 
do  with  his  not  finding  you  sooner  yesterday  ? 
My  cab-man  didn't  have  the  least  trouble  to- 
day, I  noticed." 

"  And  he  sat  near  you  while  you  were  here. 
I  remember  that,"  contributed  Babe.  "  But 
how  about  the  dance  ?  What  was  his  object  in 
planning  that?  " 

Billy  hesitated.  "  The  consul  gave  me  a 
good  fatherly  talk,  and  he  had  a  pretty  grue- 
some suggestion  about  that  ball.  He  says 
Fontainebleau — that's  where  the  countess  lives, 
you  know — is  on  the  edge  of  a  great  forest, 


282      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

and  that  you  could  get  a  stranger  out  there 
and  drive  him  off  somewhere  and  rob  him 
without  half  trying."  He  turned  to  Babbie. 
"  Do  you  remember  our  guying  him  about 
your  money  and  your  ring?  Well,  I  think 
that  was  undoubtedly  his  scheme.  But  when 
you  hung  back  and  he  knew  that  you  had 
probably  heard  Miss  Wales's  story,  why  then 
he  cooked  up  a  substitute.  My  checks  wouldn't 
have  been  safe  plunder,  so  there  was  no  use  in 
holding  me  up." 

Babbie  shivered.  "  I  guess  on  the  edge  of  a 
real  adventure  is  as  near  as  I  want  to  be.  Think 
of  being  driven  into  a  forest  and  robbed  !  " 

Billy  looked  very  solemn,  too.  "  Please 
don't  think  of  it,"  he  advised  her.  "  I'd  have 
given  a  lot  more  than  two  hundred  dollars  to 
keep  you  out  of  a  thing  like  that." 

"  Have  you  got  your  passage  home  ?  "  asked 
Betty,  so  seriously  that  every  one  burst  out 
laughing. 

"I  have,"  Billy  assured  her,  "all  nicely 
paid  for.  And  I  shan't  send  home  for  more 
money,  not  if  I  have  to  pawn  the  beautiful 
garments  that  I  had  made  on  Bond  Street,  ex- 
pressly for  the  countess's  ball.  How  Trevelyan 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      283 

must  have  enjoyed  watching  me  order  those 
clothes !  Well,  he  deserved  to  get  some  fun 
out  of  it.  Sightseeing  with  me  probably  bored 
him  awfully,  if  he  wasn't  as  new  to  London  as 
he  pretended  to  be,  and  all  his  clever  little 
contrivances  must  have  kept  him  working 
overtime.  Lots  of  honest  men  earn  two  hun- 
dred a  month  without  taking  half  the 
trouble." 

"  I'm  confirmed  in  my  belief  that  he  was 
French,"  declared  Madeline.  "  He  certainly 
must  have  plenty  of  friends  in  Paris.  He 
probably  was  in  hiding  in  Australia  while 
one  of  his  bold,  bad  adventures  was  being  for- 
gotten over  here." 

"  Then  he  must  have  been  there  some  little 
time,"  said  Billy,  "  for  his  stories  certainly 
had  local  color  all  right.  But  I  don't  think 
I  should  depend  much  on  his  advice  if  I  were 
John  Morton.  John  and  he  got  quite 
chummy  over  the  prospects  for  sheep-raising 
out  there.  By  the  way,  John  ought  to  be 
over  here  before  long.  Won't  it  be  fun  spring- 
ing all  this  on  him  ?  " 

"  The  best  of  it  is,"  said  Madeline,  "  that 
the  more  you  think  about  it  the  nicer  it  gets. 


284      BETTY   WALES,  E.A. 

It's  all  so  clever  and  finished — and — well, 
typically  adventurous,  from  the  minute  he  in- 
quired of  you  about  that  London  Club  until 
he  vanished  down  the  passage  at  the  Louvre 
this  afternoon.  It's  so  interesting  to  wonder 
what  he  thought  and  how  he  felt  as  he  played 
his  cool  little  game." 

"  Only  it  wasn't  a  game,"  Babe  objected. 
"  It  was  business.  Think  of  making  friends 
with  people  just  so  you  can  rob  them  after- 
ward I  I  always  thought  chewing  gum  was 
about  the  silliest  kind  of  a  business,  but  I'd 
rather  have  my  father  in  chewing  gum  than 
in  adventures." 

Mrs.  Hildreth  came  into  the  garden  just 
then  and  the  girls  pounced  upon  her  with 
their  exciting  story,  making  Billy  stay  to  din- 
ner to  help  them  tell  it  properly.  At  her 
plate  Betty  found  a  letter  which  had  been 
sent  direct  to  the  pension  instead  of  to  the 
express  office. 

"  I  wonder  who  knows  I'm  here,"  she  said, 
tearing  open  the  envelope,  which  was  ad- 
dressed in  a  strange  hand. 

"  Probably  an  advertisement,"  suggested 
Madeline. 


THE  GIRLS  POUNCED  UPON  HER 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      285 

But  it  wasn't.  It  was  Betty's  letter  to  John 
Morton,  with  "  not  found "  written  boldly 
across  the  address. 

Billy  inspected  it  eagerly.  "  That's  not  his 
writing,  but  it's  his  work.  Nobody  else  could 
have  sent  it  here.  So  he  did  scheme  to  keep 
us  apart !  That  was  why  he  took  us  to  the 
wrong  station  to  see  you  off." 

"  And  why  he  kept  you  out  so  late  the 
night  before,"  put  in  Madeline.  "  We  might 
have  tried  to  telephone  you  about  the  name 
then.  But  I  don't  see  why  he  returned 
Betty's  letter.  He  might  just  as  well  have 
thrown  it  away." 

"  Things  you  throw  away  leave  tracks  be- 
hind," said  Billy  wisely.  "  But  more  likely 
he  did  it  for  the  joke — timing  it  to  get  here 
to-night  and  all.  Following  all  his  moves  is 
like  going  to  a  cobweb  party.  It  will  take  us 
weeks,  and  then  we  shall  miss  some  of  the 
best  points." 

As  he  was  saying  good-night  Billy  gave  a 
sudden  exclamation.  "  I've  got  to  go  back  to 
London  to-morrow  to  meet  the  crew,  and  I'd 
forgotten  all  about  it.  Well,  I  guess  I've 
seen  as  much  of  some  sides  of  Parisian  life  as 


286      BETTY   WALES,  E.  A. 

most  fellows  could  in  three  days,  even  if  I 
didn't  get  further  than  the  front  entrance  of 
the  Louvre." 

That  night  Babbie  Hildreth  slept  lightly 
and  dreamed  strange  dreams.  About  mid- 
night she  knocked  the  B's  knock  on  Babe's 
door. 

"  No,  I'm  not  sick,  and  I  haven't  been 
robbed,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Babe's  plain- 
tive inquiries.  "  But  there's  a  ghost  on  my 
side  of  the  house,  and  all  the  rooms  around 
me  are  empty,  so  you  couldn't  expect  me  to 
stay  there  all  by  myself." 

"  Ghosts  are  your  specialty,"  murmured 
Babe,  sleepily. 

"  Well,  we're  not  supposed  to  pursue  our 
specialties  alone,"  objected  Babbie.  "  I 
thought  you'd  be  interested.  Honestly  it's 
the  funniest  thing,"  she  went  on  earnestly. 
"  Some  one  knocked  on  the  gate,  because  he 
was  locked  out,  I  suppose,  softly  at  first  and 
then  louder  and  louder.  But  now  the  gate 
has  been  opened,  and  still  the  person  stands 
and  knocks  and  knocks.  It's  a  man,  I  think." 

"  Perhaps  he's  drunk  and  doesn't  know 
enough  to  come  in,"  suggested  Babe. 


BETTT    WALES,  E.A.      287 

"  No,  he  knocks  as  if  he  had  a  definite,  sen- 
sible reason,"  said  Babbie  decisively.  "  Hark  I 
He's  actually  pounding  now.  I  hope  Madem- 
oiselle will  turn  him  out  in  the  morning,  that 
is  if  he's  a  boarder  and  not  a  ghost  trying  to 
wake  up  the  person  that  it  has  come  back  to 
haunt." 

"  Whatever  he  is,  he's  stopped  to  rest,"  said 
Babe.  "  If  he  doesn't  begin  again  you'd  be 
willing  to  go  back  to  bed,  wouldn't  you  ?  Or 
I'll  go  back  and  you  can  stay  here." 

"  Listen."  Babbie  clutched  Babe's  arm. 
"  There's  a  noise  on  the  stairs." 

There  was,  and  presently  it  came  nearer 
down  the  hallway  to  the  door.  It  was  a  queer 
noise  like  a  stealthy  step  with  a  dull  thump 
accenting  it  sharply  now  and  then.  Presently 
it  stopped,  somewhere  out  in  Babbie's  hall- 
way, there  was  the  click  of  a  key  in  a  lock, 
and  then  the  steps  began  again,  coming  slowly 
back  through  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs. 

"  Does  sound  ghostly,"  admitted  Babe, 
"  and  it  doesn't  sound  a  bit  drunk.  And  it 
can't  be  a  boarder  because  it's  going  out 
again." 

"  Well,  as  long  as  it's  gone,  I  guess  I  dare 


288       BETTY   WALES,  E.A. 

to  go  back,"  said  Babbie  presently.  "  You 
watch  me  down  the  hall,  Babe." 

"  Stay  here,  if  you'd  rather,"  Babe  offered 
again,  but  Babbie  insisted  that  she  wasn't 
afraid  and  went  off,  her  candle  flickering  in 
the  draughty  passageway.  The  next  thing 
Babe  knew  the  sunshine  was  sifting  through 
the  branches  of  the  magnolia  tree  and  her 
watch  said  half-past  eight  o'clock.  So,  for- 
getting that  it  had  been  half  an  hour  fast  the 
night  before,  she  dressed  in  a  tremendous 
hurry  and  was  astonished  when  she  peeped 
out  from  behind  her  curtains  as  usual  to  see 
who  was  down,  to  find  only  a  solitary  gentle- 
man breakfasting  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the 
garden. 

"  Why  it  looks  like — it  is  John  Morton," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  Now  what  in  the  world 
is  he  doing  here,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 
And  she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  her  bed  in 
a  fashion  that  seemed  to  say,  "  If  any  one 
thinks  I'm  going  down  to  breakfast  now,  he's 
much  mistaken."  But  the  very  next  minute 
she  jumped  up  again,  surveyed  herself  anx- 
iously in  the  glass,  and,  without  stopping  to 
get  Madeline  and  Betty,  as  the  first  one  to  be 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      289 

ready  always  did,  marched  down-stairs  and 
out  into  the  court.  Her  start  of  surprise 
when  she  came  into  sight  of  John  would  have 
secured  her  a  part  in  the  senior  play  at  Hard- 
ing, but  John  was  so  surprised  himself  that 
any  bungler  could  have  taken  him  in. 

"  You  here?  "  he  gasped. 

"Yes,"  said  Babe,  coolly.  "Didn't  you 
know  it?" 

"  Of  course  not.  Some  friend  of  Dwight's 
gave  us  the  address.  It's  very  near  to  the 
big  library  where  he's  got  to  bone." 

"  I  see,"  said  Babe.  Then  there  was  a 
long  and  dreadful  pause.  At  last  Babe  broke 
it.  "  I  presume  he  won't  care  to  move. 
Don't  let's  act  like  sillies.  Let's  be  perfectly 
nice  and  friendly,  so  no  one  will  know  how 
you — how  we  feel.  For  instance,  if  I  go  off 
now  into  another  corner  of  the  garden  every 
one  will  want  to  laugh  at  us." 

"  Do  sit  down  here  by  all  means,"  said 
John  politely,  springing  to  draw  up  a  chair 
for  her. 

There  was  another  pause. 

"  I  suppose  we've  got  to  talk,"  said  John 
doggedly  at  last.  "  How  are  the — what  do 


290      BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

you  call  them? — oh,  yes,  the  dominant  in- 
terests ?  How  are  they  coming  on  ?  " 

"  We  had  a  ghost  last  night,"  said  Babe 
primly.  "  It  was  trying  to  haunt  some  one 
in  the  house  apparently.  It  banged  and 
banged " 

"  Why  that  was  me,"  said  John  with  an 
ungrammatical  suddenness  that  broke  the 
ice.  "  You  see  Dwight  and  I  got  here  about 
eight  and  after  we'd  settled  our  traps  we  went 
for  a  walk.  Dwight  got  sleepy  and  came 
back,  but  I  tramped  pretty  nearly  all  over 
Paris,  I  should  say.  And  when  I  got  here 
at  last,  I  happened  to  think  that  I  didn't 
know  the  way  to  my  room  well  enough  to 
risk  finding  it  alone.  So  I  called  up  the 
porter.  He  thought  I  only  wanted  the  gate 
opened,  and  it  seems  he  has  it  fixed  so  he 
can  do  that  without  getting  out  of  bed.  But 
I  pounded  and  pounded  until  he  decided  I 
was  crazy,  and  came  to  put  me  out.  And  I 
finally  made  him  understand  the  fix  I  was 
in." 

"  You  made  the  queerest  noise  coming  up- 
stairs," said  Babe.  "  It  sounded  too  ghostly 
for  anything." 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      291 

"  The  porter  has  a  wooden  leg,"  explained 
John,  "  so  he  can't  go  quietly.  He  made  all 
the  noise  that  was  made  inside  the  house. 
I'm  very  sorry  I  woke  you  all  up  and  fright- 
ened you." 

"  Oh,  we  aren't  so  nervous  as  all  that,"  Babe 
assured  him  gaily,  and  was  frightened  to  see 
how  friendly  her  words  sounded.  "  Babbie," 
she  called  hastily,  as  Babbie  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  "  come  and  see  the  noisy  Parisian 
ghost  and  tell  him  about  the  ghostly  disap- 
pearance of  his  dear  friend  Mr.  Trevelyan." 

Under  cover  of  the  story,  Babe  disappeared. 

"  You  silly,  silly  thing,"  she  whispered,  in 
the  seclusion  of  her  nun's  cell,  "  you're  glad 
to  see  him  when  you're  not  sure  he's  glad  to 
see  you.  Don't  try  to  deny  it,  because  it's 
true.  But  don't  you  dare  to  let  him  know 
it.  When  he  says  he's  sorry  he  was  so  horrid 
you  can  decide  what  to  say,  but  not  before. 
I  hope  you've  got  pride  enough  to  be  a  man- 
hater  as  long  as  he  is  a  woman-hater." 

Having  relieved  her  mind  to  this  extent, 
Babe  went  to  find  Betty  and  told  her  about 
John. 

"  I  rely  on  you  to  stick  by  me,"  she  said. 


292       BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  The  others  will  all  try  to  leave  us  alone  to- 
gether, and  that's  just  what  I  don't  want. 
It's  queer  how  easy  it  is  to  tell  you  things, 
Betty.  I  suppose  that's  one  reason  why  Mr. 
Morton  calls  you  Miss  B.  A." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    PROGRESS    OF     ROMANCE 

WHEN  Babe  and  Betty  joined  the  others, 
they  found  them  still  talking  about  Mr. 
Trevelyan. 

"  Do  you  think  now  that  he's  an  authority 
on  sheep-raising  in  Australia?"  inquired 
Babe  blandly  of  John. 

John  flushed  a  little.  "  No,  I  don't  believe 
I  care  to  use  his  letters  of  introduction."  He 
produced  a  bulky  packet.  "  His  friends 
would  probably  give  me  the  same  sort  of  send- 
off  that  he  gave  Billy.  I  suppose  Billy  told 
you  that  I'd  consulted  him  about  chances  out 
there,"  John  added,  looking  inquiringly 
around  the  circle. 

"  But  you  weren't  serious  about  going,  were 
you  ?  "  demanded  Madeline  incredulously. 

"  I  certainly  was,"  returned  John  in  his 
stiffest  manner,  and  Babe's  little  proud  face 
hardened.  He  wasn't  sorry  that  he  had  been 
disagreeable;  he  was  just  giving  up  Australia 

293 


294      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

because  Mr.  Trevelyan  had  proved  unreli- 
able. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Dwight  suggested  that 
they  should  all  go  and  inspect  the  Pantheon, 
which  was  so  near  by  that  the  girls,  thinking 
they  could  go  there  "  any  time,"  hadn't  yet 
been  to  see  it.  As  they  started  off  across  the 
court  Mr.  Dwight  happened  to  engage  Betty's 
attention,  and  Madeline  and  Babbie  marched 
off  arm  in  arm,  leaving  Babe  and  John  to- 
gether. 

But — "  Here,  Babbie,"  Babe  called  after  her, 
"  you're  forgetting  to  take  care  of  your  prop- 
erty. Ghosts  are  your  dominant  interest,  and 
John  is  a  ghost.  Therefore  you  ought  to  look 
after  him,  Q.  E.  D." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  change  interests  with 
me  ?  "  asked  Babbie  demurely.  "  You've  been 
going  to  get  a  new  one  all  summer  in  place  of 
your  inaccessible  chimney-pots." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Babe  coolly,  "  but  I  don't 
want  a  second-hand  interest.  If  I  change, 
it  will  be  for  something  that  nobody  else  has 
tried.  Come  on,  Madeline." 

John  accepted  Babe's  prompt  solution  of 
their  difficulties,  and  in  the  r61e  of  "  Babbie's 


BETTY   WALES,  E.  A.      295 

tame  Parisian  ghost " — it  was  Madeline's 
name,  of  course — cooperated  with  Babe  and 
Betty  to  avoid  embarrassing  tete-a-tetes. 
Madeline  and  Babbie  on  the  other  hand,  ob- 
jected strenuously  to  Betty's  enrolling  her- 
self in  Babe's  faction. 

"  I  suppose  she's  told  you  all  about  it," 
Babbie  said  dolefully,  "and  made  you  promise 
to  help  her.  She  won't  tell  me  a  thing,  but  I 
can  see  for  myself  that  in  spite  of  her  trying 
to  appear  so  gay  and  lively,  she's  worried  and 
nervous  and  growing  thin.  Just  because  you 
discovered  that  match-making  won't  work 
you  needn't  try  the  other  thing." 

"  I'm  only  keeping  her  good  natured,"  ex- 
plained Betty  laughingly.  "  She  told  me  a 
little,  but  she  left  out  all  the  important  points, 
just  as  people  in  love  always  do.  She  doesn't 
know  what  she  wants,  and  John  doesn't. 
Something  will  turn  up  before  long,  I  hope, 
to  help  them  decide." 

"  Of  course  it  will,"  agreed  Madeline  easily, 
"  and  meanwhile  all  Paris  is  before  us.  Where 
shall  we  go  to-day?  " 

"  Let's  leave  it  to  the  man  from  Cook's," 
suggested  Betty. 


296       BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

"  Victor  Hugo's  house,  then,"  announced 
Madeline  promptly.  "  John  particularly 
wants  to  go  there." 

But  John  had  promised  to  meet  a  college 
friend  that  afternoon,  and  Mr.  Dwight  was 
busy,  so  the  four  girls  and  Mrs.  Hildreth 
went  off  alone.  When  they  got  back  John 
was  in  the  garden  with  a  formidable  collection 
of  railway  guides  and  Baedekers  piled  on  a 
green  table  before  him. 

"  Have  to  be  in  Antwerp  to-morrow  at  ten," 
he  explained  impressively,  and  handed  Mrs. 
Hildreth  a  telegram. 

"  If  you  can  really  speak  Dutch  and  French 
decently,"  it  read,  "  meet  me  Antwerp,  hotel 
St.  Antoine,  ten  Thursday  morning.  J.  J. 
Morton." 

"  I  can't  imagine  what  he  wants  of  me," 
John  went  on,  trying  to  be  perfectly  matter 
of  fact,  "  and  I'm  dead  sure  that  my  Dutch 
and  French  won't  suit  him,  but  there's  noth- 
ing like  trying,  so  I  shall  go.  See  here,  which 
one  of  you  told  the  governor  that  I  could 
speak  Dutch  and  French  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  Betty  confessed,  timidly.  "  I  hope 
you  don't  mind." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      297 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  John,  who  was 
evidently  trying  not  to  appear  obnoxiously 
elated.  "The  thing  I  don't  understand  is 
why  he  believed  you.  You  must  have  an  aw- 
ful lot  of  influence  with  him  to  make  him 
think  that  I  can  do  anything.  Will  you  lend 
me  your  precious  French  dictionary  for  the 
trip  ?  " 

Betty  promised  and  went  off  to  find 
the  book,  while  the  other  girls  said  good- 
bye, and  wished  John  a  successful  journey. 
The  telegram,  it  seemed,  had  come  before  he 
went  out  for  the  afternoon,  and  he  had  looked 
up  trains  and  packed,  and  was  starting  in  a 
few  minutes  more  for  the  station. 

When  Babe  got  up-stairs,  Betty  was  waiting 
to  waylay  her.  "  I  don't  see  how  I  was  so 
stupid,"  she  said,  "  but  my  collar  stuck  into 
me  and  it  hurt  so  while  I  burrowed  around  in 
my  trunk  tray  for  my  dictionary,  that  I  took 
it  off.  Would  you  mind  carrying  this  to  John  ? 
I'm  afraid  he's  in  a  hurry." 

Babe  eyed  her  suspiciously.  "  I  never  knew 
you  to  be  so  absent-minded,"  she  said. 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  go  back,  I  can  ask 
Madeline."  Betty  started  toward  the  door, 


298      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

but  Babe  reached  out  a  hand  for  the  little 
dictionary. 

"  I  can  go  as  well  as  not,"  she  said,  and  hur- 
ried off. 

"  Say  good-bye  to  him  for  me,"  Betty  called 
after  her,  and  after  a  discreet  interval  went  off 
to  find  Madeline  and  Babbie  and  tell  them 
what  she  had  done. 

Meanwhile  Babe  had  delivered  the  diction- 
ary, with  explanations,  and  said  good-bye 
again. 

"  You'll  be  back  soon,  of  course?  "  she  asked, 
and  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  there  was  a  little 
quiver  of  eagerness  in  her  voice. 

"  I  can't  be  sure."  John  looked  at  her 
hard  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  say,  Babe, 
let's  shake  .and  be  friends — real  friends,  not 
friends  for  show,  as  we  have  been  lately.  I 
was  a  goose  about  the  Australian  business. 
Even  if  Trevelyan  had  been  all  right,  it  was 
a  wildcat  scheme.  I  don't  know  what  my 
father  wants  of  me,  but  I'm  hoping  it's  help 
with  a  business  deal  of  some  kind.  That  will 
give  me  an  opportunity  to  show  him  that  I'm 
not  quite  so  no-account  as  he  thinks,  and 
maybe  he'll  give  me  a  good  chance  next  year, 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      299 

if  he  won't  this.  If  I  should  make  good  with 
him,  will  you  reconsider?" 

Babe  put  her  small  brown  hand  into  John's 
big  one.  "  I'd — well,  I'd  consider  reconsider- 
ing, I  think,"  she  said  slowly.  "  Remember, 
I  don't  promise  anything  but  that,  and — come 
back  as  soon  as  }^ou  can.  Good-bye."  Babe 
dashed  across  the  garden  and  up-stairs  like  a 
whirlwind. 

John  was  gone  three  days.  The  girls  spent 
most  of  the  time  in  hunting  a  present  for 
Bob.  "  Some  queer  old  thing  that  looks  as  if 
it  came  from  Europe  "  sounded  easy  enough 
to  find,  and  it  was — too  easy ;  so  that  each 
girl  had  her  own  pet  idea  and  couldn't  bear 
to  give  it  up.  Finally,  Madeline  suggested 
drawing  lots. 

"Each  fix  a  piece  of  cake  for  Virginie.  Put 
the  four  in  a  row,  and  the  one  whose  piece 
Virginie  gobbles  up  first  can  have  the  say 
about  the  present." 

All  but  Babe  were  satisfied  to  save  a  bit  of 
the  cake  they  had  for  luncheon.  Babe,  who 
evidently  understood  Virginie's  tastes,  went 
out  to  a  bakery  near  by  and  brought  back  a 
beautiful  little  frosted  cake  with  a  cherry  on 


300      BETTY   WALES,  B.A. 

top.  And  Virginie  made  straight  for  the 
cherry. 

Mademoiselle  happened  to  come  through 
the  garden  just  then,  and  Babe,  who  was  be- 
ginning to  be  as  proud  of  her  French  as  Betty 
had  been,  rushed  up  to  her  triumphantly  and 
announced,  "  Nous  avons  mange  Virginie." 

Mademoiselle  looked  horrified  and  amazed 
until  Babe  pointed  out  the  family  pet  and  the 
row  of  cake  crumbs.  "  Avec  gateaux,"  she 
added  pleasantly. 

Mademoiselle  mildly  suggested  that  they 
had  "  given  Virginie  to  eat  of  cake,"  and  Mad- 
eline asked  Babe  how  Virginie  tasted. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Babe  sturdily,  when 
she  had  seen  her  mistake.  "  I  eat ;  I  feed. 
It's  exactly  the  same  thing.  I  eat  Virginie ; 
I  feed  Virginie.  Well,  that  isn't,  is  it  ?  Any- 
how I  know  how  to  feed  a  turtle  if  I  don't 
know  how  to  talk  about  it.  Now  come  and 
buy  Bob's  candlesticks." 

But  while  Madeline  and  Babbie  were  bar- 
gaining with  the  shop-keeper  for  the  pair  of 
candlesticks  that  Babe  had  chosen,  Betty, 
poking  about  in  a  dark  corner,  discovered  a 
queer  thing  that  Madeline  told  her  was  a 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      301 

Flemish  lamp ;  and  everybody  liked  it  so 
much  better  than  the  candlesticks  that  Babe 
renounced  the  privilege  of  choosing  and 
joined  the  unanimous  movement  in  favor  of 
the  Flemish  lamp.  Then  everybody  wanted 
one  for  herself,  and  the  afternoon  sped  away 
in  the  pursuit,  for  no  antique  store  boasted 
many  of  the  lamps.  There  was  a  great  differ- 
ence in  the  gracefulness  of  the  tall  standards 
and  the  quaintness  of  the  small  hanging  lamps, 
and  each  girl  insisted  upon  being  exactly 
suited  before  she  made  her  choice. 

"  A  perfect  nuisance  to  pack,"  laughed 
Betty  on  the  way  home,  "  and  absolutely  use- 
less. I  can  just  hear  Will  say  it." 

"  Not  half  so  bad  to  pack  as  the  flossy  hats 
you  girls  have  been  buying  ;  they  are  war- 
ranted not  to  break,  and  will  make  excellent 
substitutes  for  hammers,"  Madeline  defended 
their  purchases.  "  Let's  take  them  into  the 
garden  and  see  how  they  look  all  together." 

Arranged  on  two  little  tables,  the  five  lamps 
looked  so  imposing  that  Mrs.  Hildreth  had  to 
be  called  down  to  inspect  them  and  admire 
the  "points"  of  each,  as  its  fond  owner 
dilated  upon  them. 


302      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

In  the  midst  of  the  "  show,"  as  Babbie 
called  it,  John  appeared.  His  greetings  were 
so  subdued  and  formal  that  no  one  dared  in- 
quire about  his  trip  until  Betty  broke  the  ice 
by  asking  if  any  one  had  mistaken  him  for  a 
Dutchman  again. 

"  Not  quite,"  said  John  modestly.  "  I  guess 
you  are  the  only  ones  who  ever  did  that ;  but 
my  Dutch  was  all  right  and  so  was  my 
French.  You  should  have  seen  my  father 
stare." 

After  that  it  was  easy  to  see  that,  as  Mad- 
eline put  it,  he  was  wearing  the  air  of  the 
conquering  hero,  decently  disguised.  Mr. 
Morton  had  sent  boxes  of  hopje,  which  is  a 
delicious  kind  of  Dutch  candy  that  can  be 
bought  nowhere  but  at  the  Hague,  to  Betty 
and  Babe,  and  they  all  sat  in  the  garden  eat- 
ing it  while  John  told  his  story. 

"  Dad  says  he's  felt  all  right  ever  since  the 
day  he  disobeyed  all  his  doctor's  orders  at 
once  down  in  Saint  Malo,  so  he's  kept  on  dis- 
obeying them  ever  since.  He  had  a  big 
business  deal  on  at  Antwerp — buying  an 
interest  in  a  steamship  line  was  the  principal 
part — and  as  he  wanted  to  buy  straight  from 


BETTT    WALES,  B.A.      303 

the  men  who  owned  the  line  he  needed  an 
interpreter  that  he  could  trust.  So  he  cabled 
home,  but  the  man  he  wanted  was  off  on  a 
fishing  trip  and  missed  the  boat."  John 
chuckled.  "  I'm  afraid  he'll  pay  pretty  high 
for  those  fish.  Then,  having  implicit  confi- 
dence in  Miss  Wales's  judgment,  he  sent  for 
me."  He  looked  at  Betty.  "You've  been 
'  Miss  B.  A.,'  as  dad  calls  you,  to  me  this  trip, 
I  can  tell  you.  It's  been  all  my  fault,  I  know, 
the  way  my  father  has  felt  about  me,  and  I 
don't  blame  him  for  not  believing  that  I've 
braced  up.  Now  that  he  does  believe  it,  you 
can  be  sure  I  shan't  give  him  the  faintest  ex- 
cuse for  changing  his  mind.  He's  a  brick, 
when  he  gets  started."  John  stopped  to 
laugh  at  his  absurdly  mixed  metaphor. 

The  girls  drifted  away  with  their  precious 
Flemish  lamps,  and  this  time  Babe  made  no 
pretence  of  not  wishing  to  be  the  last  to  go. 

"  Well,  I've  made  good,"  said  John  when 
they  two  were  alone,  "  and  if  my  father  in- 
sists upon  it  I  shall  go  back  to  college  and  do 
my  best  to  make  good  there,  too.  Will  you 
wait  for  me,  Babe  ?  " 

Babe    flushed    and    gasped.     "I    thought 


304      BETTY  WALES,  B.  A. 

you'd  talk  about  your  trip  awhile  first.  I 
haven't  decided.  It's  so  much  more  serious 
somehow,  now  that  I've  had  time  to  think  it 
over  longer.  Let's  just  be  friends  for  awhile, 
and  I  guess  I  can  decide  before  very  long. 
Don't  ask  me  again  till  I  say  you  may." 

It  was  now  that  Madeline's  pension  devel- 
oped a  new  advantage.  The  garden  was  cer- 
tainly an  ideal  one  for  promoting  a  romance. 
John  was  always  down  early  for  breakfast. 
Mr.  Dwight  considerately  came  very  late. 
Betty  and  Madeline,  when  they  were  ready, 
peeped  surreptitiously  out  between  the  mag- 
nolia branches,  and  if  John  hadn't  come  or 
was  still  alone  they  went  down,  ate  hastily, 
and  found  it  absolutely  necessary  to  go  up- 
stairs again  at  once.  If  Babe  had  joined  him 
— of  course  Babe  never,  never  peeped  now- 
adays— they  loitered  in  Babbie's  room  until 
the  two  in  the  garden  had  had  ample  time  for  a 
leisurely  tete-a-tete.  Before  and  after  dinner 
the  garden  was  the  favorite  loitering  place,  and 
then  again  there  were  chances  for  judicious 
management.  But  the  days  sped  by,  and  still 
Babe  hesitated.  One  afternoon  she  had  an  in- 
spiration. 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      305 

"  Maxim  for  travelers  :  '  When  in  doubt 
drink  afternoon  tea.'  I'm  certainly  in  doubt, 
and  we  haven't  had  a  real  teardrinking  for 
ages." 

She  was  dressing  for  dinner,  so  she  slipped 
on  a  kimono  and  made  a  dash  through  the 
hall  to  Madeline's  room. 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  have  a  tea-drinking," 
she  announced.  "  Can't  we,  to-morrow  after- 
noon?" 

Madeline  nodded.  "  It's  a  queer  coinci- 
dence that  I've  just  heard  of  the  most  fasci- 
nating tea  place.  Also  I  had  decided  to  make 
you  girls  give  me  a  going-away  party  there  to- 
morrow. I  simply  must  be  off  for  Sorrento." 

"  Is  it  a  real  tea  place  ?  "  Babe  inquired 
anxiously.  "  I  insist  upon  tea  this  time — not 
lemonade  or  ices." 

"  Since  when  have  you  gotten  so  fond  of 
tea  ?  "  asked  Madeline  curiously.  "  In  Eng- 
land you  always  fussed " 

"  We  haven't  had  it  so  much  lately,"  ex- 
plained Babe,  and  departed  in  haste  to  finish 
dressing. 

"  And  I  never  told  her  I  was  sorry  she  was 
going,"  she  reflected  as  she  brushed  her  hair. 


306      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

"  Oh,  dear,  it's  dreadful  to  have  something  on 
your  mind  !  " 

Madeline  refused  to  give  her  hostesses  much 
idea  of  "  the  most  fascinating  tea  place." 

"  I've  never  been  there,"  she  said,  "  but  the 
woman  who  sits  next  me  at  dinner  said  it  was 
awfully  jolly.  It's  out  at  Robinson,  a  little 
suburban  place.  There  are  cafes  in  the  trees, 
and  you  climb  up  as  high  as  you  like  among 
the  branches  and  enjoy  the  prospect  and  the 
tea." 

"  But  mother  could  never  climb  up  in  a 
tree,"  protested  Babbie. 

"  You  don't  climb  trees,"  explained  Made- 
line placidly.  "  You  climb  stairs  to  little 
landings  built  among  the  branches,  just  like 
the  '  Swiss  Family  Robinson  '  house.  That's 
what  gives  the  place  its  name." 

The  Robinson  party,  which  as  a  matter  of 
course  included  John  and  Mr.  Dwight,  started 
out  the  next  afternoon  in  high  spirits.  A 
short  train  ride  brought  them  to  Robinson, 
where  they  found  a  feature  that  Madeline's  in- 
formant had  not  mentioned — sleepy  little 
donkeys  waiting  to  carry  them  up  the  hill  to 
the  tree-top  cafes.  To  be  sure  Madeline  and 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      307 

Mr.  Dwight,  in  their  eagerness  to  secure  the 
top  story  of  the  very  tallest  trees  for  the  party, 
abandoned  their  donkeys  half-way  up  and 
went  ahead  on  foot,  with  the  result  that  they 
discovered  it  to  be  a  very  hot  day,  much  more 
suitable  for  lemonade  than  for  tea. 

"  But  we're  giving  you  a  tea-drinking,"  ob- 
jected Babe,  when  they  were  seated  around 
the  table  on  the  top  platform,  with  the  green 
of  the  trees  to  shelter  them  from  the  western 
sun  and  yet  not  hide  the  wonderful  view  of 
Paris  and  the  country  between.  "  I  shall 
have  tea  anyway." 

"  Have  it  iced,"  suggested  John,  but  Babe 
shook  her  head. 

"  Regular  tea,"  she  insisted. 

"  Then  you  can  have  lemonade  to  cool  off 
on  later,"  put  in  Betty.  "  You  know  some- 
body has  got  to  have  a  second  course,  so  we 
can  have  something  to  pull  up  in  the  basket. 
The  first  time  you  order,  the  waiter  comes  up  ; 
but  the  second  time  he  puts  the  things  in  a 
basket,  and  we  pull.  I  speak  to  do  the  pull- 
ing." 

"  Why  can't  we  start  this  kind  of  tea-room 
in  New  York,  Madeline?"  asked  Babbie 


308      BETTT  WALES,  B.A. 

eagerly.  "  A  three-story  tea-room  is  even 
nicer  than  a  two-story  tram.  And  the  basket 
is  a  beautiful  feature.  People  would  just 
flock  to  see  it  work."  She  pulled  it  up  her- 
self by  way  of  illustration. 

"  Be  sure  to  have  strawberry  tarts  on  the 
menu,  and  I'll  flock  for  one,"  said  Mr. 
Dwight,  helping  himself  to  another  of  the 
tarts  in  question. 

"  Things  are  more  expensive  in  New  York," 
Madeline  warned  him.  "  You  won't  be  able 
to  afford  ten  tarts,  even  if  you  are  ravenously 
hungry." 

"  You  could  call  it  the  Peter  Pan  Tea- 
Rooms,"  put  in  Betty.  "  It's  exactly  like 
the  last  scene  in  the  play,  except  that  there 
aren't  any  fairies." 

"  You  can't  ever  be  sure  of  that,  you  know, 
Miss  Wales,"  Mr.  Dwight  took  her  up. 

Babe  listened  absently  to  all  the  idle 
chatter,  drinking  her  hot  tea  conscientiously 
and  thinking  hard.  And  because  she  was 
serious  and  silent  John  was  also,  trying  to 
guess  at  her  thoughts. 

"  The  best  way  to  tell  whether  you  want 
a  thing  is  to  think  how  you  would  feel  to 


BETTT    WALES,  B.A.      309 

have  to  get  along  without  it  all  your  life." 
Babe  came  out  of  her  brown  study  to  hear 
Madeline  saying  it.  She  gave  a  little  start, 
caught  Betty's  eye  fixed  upon  her  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Listen  to  that  now,"  and  blushed 
furiously ;  then  she  looked  at  John  and 
blushed  hotter  still. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  all  talking 
about  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I  was  thinking  of 
something  else." 

"  Babbie's  elegant  new  clothes,"  explained 
Madeline  coolly,  "  and  my  philosophy  of 
clothes,  which  is  not  to  bother  with  them." 

Babe  jumped  up.  "  I  want  to  see  the  view 
from  the  story  below  this,  don't  you,  John  ? 
The  trees  are  cut  away  more  down  there." 

John  murmured  something  about  being 
rather  tired  of  sitting  still  and  followed  her. 

"  Chaperon's  cue  is  to  descend  to  lower 
story,"  laughed  Mr.  Dwight ;  but  Mrs.  Hil- 
dreth  decided  that  in  this  case  the  chaperon 
would  better  stay  where  she  was. 

The  two  were  back  in  five  minutes,  en- 
thusiastic over  their  view. 

"I'm  ready  for  my  lemonade  now,"  an- 
nounced Babe  gaily. 


310      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  another  glass,  too," 
added  John.  "  You  must  all  have  another. 
Babe  and  I  want  you  to  drink  a  toast." 

Which  is  how  Madeline's  going-away  party 
was  suddenly  transformed  into  Babe's  an- 
nouncement party — not  one  bit  fair,  Made- 
line said,  but  amusing  enough  to  make  up. 
Anyway  Babe  always  declared  that  Made- 
line said  what  she  did  on  purpose  and  that 
Betty  coughed  to  attract  her  attention  to  it. 

"  And  I  knew  I  didn't  want  to  do  with- 
out John  all  my  life,"  she  said,  "  and  mak- 
ing up  your  mind  is  such  a  bother  that  I 
wanted  to  have  it  all  over  with.  When- 
ever I'm  in  doubt  again  I  shall  drink  after- 
noon tea." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TELLING    THE    MAGNATE 

IT  wasn't  a  real  announcement  party,  Babe 
explained  carefully. 

"  Only  a  private  view,"  suggested  Made- 
line, "  which  is  not  to  be  so  much  as  men- 
tioned until  Babe  gives  the  word." 

Meanwhile  Babe,  who  had  no  serious  doubts 
of  the  continued  approval  of  her  family — she 
had  basked  in  it  unquestioned  ever  since  she 
could  remember — wrote  a  long  letter  home 
and  spent  her  last  days  in  Paris  in  the  garden 
with  John  and  Virginie. 

"  You  ought  to  be  making  a  specialty  of  a 
trousseau,"  Babbie  told  her  severely.  "  May 
be  you're  not  going  to  be  married  for  a  whole 
year,  but  just  the  same  there  are  lots  of  things 
you  can  get  here  much  better  than  at  home." 

But  Babe  refused  to  be  diverted  to  shopping 
excursions.  "  I  prefer  fiances  for  my  dom- 
inant interest,"  she  said.  "  They're  much  less 

311 


312      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

wearing.  Besides  you've  all  given  me  such 
lovely  engagement  presents.  My  trousseau 
will  have  a  Parisian  touch  from  them." 

Mr.  Jasper  J.  Morton  was  automobiling 
furiously  through  Germany.  He  wired  Babe 
to  remind  her  of  the  boat-race  and  to  invite  her 
whole  party  and  John  and  Mr.  Dwight  to  be 
his  guests ;  but  he  gave  no  address,  so  John 
finally  tore  up  the  long  letter  he  had  written, 
deciding  to  tell  his  news  in  person  when  he 
and  his  father  met  in  London. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  going-away  party 
Madeline  appeared  at  breakfast  in  her  travel- 
ing suit. 

"  My  trunk  has  gone,"  she  announced,  "  and 
my  carry-all-and-more-too  is  strapped  as 
neatly  as  its  bursting  condition  will  permit. 
And  the  man  servant  has  gone  to  hunt  me  a 
cab.  Tell  you  sooner  ?  If  I  had,  you'd  have 
persuaded  me  to  stay  a  day  longer.  Don't 
deny  it,  Betty  Wales ;  I  see  it  in  your  eye." 

"  But  you'll  be  back  in  New  York  in  time 
to  start  the  tea-room  ? "  inquired  Babbie 
anxiously. 

Madeline  laughed.  "  If  I  don't  come,  you 
may  have  all  the  ideas,  Babbie  dear,  and  I 


BETTY   WALES,  B.A.      313 

promise  not  to  open  a  rival  establishment. 
Father  is  thinking  of  a  winter  in  Egypt,  and 
I've  '  stayed  put '  at  Harding  so  long  that  it 
sounds  very  tempting  indeed.  But  so  does  a 
tea-room.  I'll  write  you  when  I  decide. 
Good-bye.  No,  I  hate  to  have  people  come  to 
the  train  with  me." 

And  Madeline  was  off  on  her  long  journey, 
blithely  confident  that  each  new  experience 
in  life  is  amusing,  if  only  you  expect  it  to  be 
and  waste  no  time  in  regretting  such  sad 
necessities  as  missing  a  Harvard-Cambridge 
race  that  you  would  give  the  world,  if  you 
had  it,  to  see. 

The  others  crossed  to  London  the  day  before 
the  great  event.  Billy  Benson  met  them  joy- 
ously at  the  station. 

"Sold  my  Bond  Street  clothes,"  he  an- 
nounced, "  for  just  what  they  cost  me,  to  a 
nice  little  chap  on  the  Harvard  subs.  Told 
him  he'd  need  'em  for  the  celebrations  after 
the  race.  Didn't  tell  him  that  I  was  down  to 
my  last  little  express  check.  How  are  you 
people  going  to  see  the  race?  " 

John  explained,  and  Billy  chuckled.  "  Bet 
I've  seen  your  father.  He  was  down  at  the 


3H  '    BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

American  Express  Offices  this  morning  trying 
to  buy  up  the  boat  they've  advertised  as  es- 
pecially for  American  spectators.  Said  he'd 
pay  whatever  they  liked  if  they'd  refund  the 
money  on  the  tickets  they'd  already  sold  and 
let  him  have  the  whole  thing  for  his  party. 
But  they  wouldn't  do  it — couldn't,  of  course. 
He  was  in  an  awful  rage." 

John  and  the  girls  laughed  at  the  descrip- 
tion, and  Mrs.  Hildreth  despatched  John  in 
haste  to  his  father's  hotel  to  explain  that  such 
magnificent  accommodations  were  quite  un- 
necessary. Jasper  J.  Morton  was  still  peppery 
over  his  defeat. 

"  Boats  are  all  partly  sold  ;  desirable  an- 
chorages all  taken.  Nothing  to  do  but 
scramble  aboard  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd. 
Maybe  the  girls  don't  mind  it ;  I  do.  When 
I  ask  ladies  to  go  to  a  boat-race,  I  want  to  do 
the  thing  up  properly." 

John  decided  that  the  time  was  not  propi- 
tious for  making  his  announcement,  but  led 
up  to  it  gently  by  suggesting  that  dinner  at 
one  of  the  big  hotels  on  the  Embankment 
would  be  a  luxurious  enough  ending  to  the 
afternoon's  pleasures  to  make  the  girls  forget 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      315 

any  slight  discomfort  they  had  experienced 
earlier  in  the  day. 

"  That's  not  a  bad  idea,"  Mr.  Morton  ad- 
mitted grudgingly.  "  Something  in  the 
nature  of  a  celebration  of  Harvard's  victory,  I 
suppose  you  mean.  The  London  papers  don't 
seem  to  think  we'll  win,  but  of  course  they're 
prejudiced.  I  hope  those  Harvard  fellows 
haven't  come  all  this  distance  just  to  show  the 
English  that  Americans  can't  row,  eh  ?  " 

"  Benson  thinks  they  have  a  chance,"  John 
said,  and  repeated  Billy's  lively  account  of 
the  crew's  practice  records.  "  But  if  we  don't 
win,"  he  added  tentatively,  "  we  can  celebrate 
something  else." 

Jasper  J.  Morton  sniffed  scornfully.  "The 
Harvard  spirit  and  a  good  race  and  all  that  ? 
No  sir,  a  defeat  is  a  defeat.  If  we  lose,  there'll 
be  nothing  whatever  to  celebrate.  Don't  let 
me  hear  you  talking  any  nonsense  of  that 
sort.  A  man  who  means  to  succeed  in  busi- 
ness mustn't  get  himself  muddled  about  suc- 
cess and  failure.  Be  a  good  loser  if  you  have 
to ;  but  don't  you  ever  boast  about  it,  or  cele- 
brate it." 

So  John's  mild  effort  to  introduce  the  sub- 


3i6       BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

ject  of  his  engagement  proved  futile,  and  he 
decided  to  wait  till  morning.  But  morning 
found  Mr.  Morton  spinning  out  to  Windsor  in 
his  car,  because  some  one  at  his  hotel  had  told 
him  that  it  would  be  madness  to  go  back  to 
America  without  seeing  the  finest  royal  resi- 
dence in  England. 

"  And  when  I  got  there  this  wasn't  a  day 
when  it's  open  to  the  public,"  he  explained  to 
Mrs.  Hildreth  on  the  wharf,  with  a  stoicism 
born  of  despair.  "  Well,  if  I  live  till  to-mor- 
row, I  shall  be  on  my  way  to  a  country  where 
I'm  glad  to  say  that  sightseeing  isn't  the  main 
business  of  life.  Where's  your  crimson  streamer, 
Miss  B.  A.  ?  You  promised  me  a  bow,  didn't 
you  ?  "  He  turned  to  Babe,  who  blushed  so 
red,  as  she  pinned  on  the  crimson  rosette,  that 
if  he  hadn't  been  watching  so  impatiently  for 
the  boat,  he  would  have  guessed  her  happy 
secret  and  saved  John  an  anxious  afternoon. 

"  For  if  we  lose,"  John  confided  solemnly  to 
Babe,  "my  father  will  be  in  a  horrible  temper 
this  evening.  And  if  I  wait  and  tell  him  on 
shipboard,  he  won't  like  my  doing  that.  And 
if  he's  huffy  about  it  to  begin  with,  he'll  never 
really  like  it." 


BETTT    WALES,  B.A.      317 

Betty  was  standing  apart  from  the  others, 
talking  to  Mr.  Morton,  who  forgot  to  look  at 
his  watch  and  mutter  that  they  should  be  late 
for  the  race  after  all  their  trouble,  as  he 
watched  her  bright  face  and  listened  to  the 
story  she  was  telling. 

"  Wish  she'd  break  the  news  to  him,"  said 
John,  gloomily. 

"  I  do,  too.  I'll  ask  her,"  volunteered  Babe  • 
and  as  their  boat  touched  the  wharf  just  then, 
and  the  rush  for  good  places  tossed  them  to- 
gether, she  did. 

But  Betty  only  laughed  at  her.  "  Babe, 
dear,  you're  absurd.  Run  right  up  to  him, 
the  two  of  you,  and  have  it  over.  He'll  be 
awfully  pleased.  But  there'd  be  no  sense  at 
all  in  my  telling  him." 

"  Yes,  there  would  be,  too,"  protested  John, 
who  had  come  up  behind  them.  "  I'm  sorry 
for  you,  Miss  Wales,  but  it's  your  destiny. 
You  shouldn't  have  such  a  magic  influence  on 
my  father's  feelings  if  you  don't  want  to  exert 
it.  Having  benevolent  adventures  for  your 
special  line,  you've  got  to  live  up  to  the  re- 
sponsibilities involved." 

"  But  I  didn't  choose  that  for  my  specialty," 


3i8       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

Betty  persisted.  "  The  girls  just  gave  it  to 
me." 

"It's  just  like  a  'Merry  Heart'  election," 
declared  Babe  solemnly.  "  If  Harvard  loses 
this  race,  you  are  elected  to  tell.  There's  no 
getting  out  of  an  election,  you  know." 

Babe  wriggled  in  between  two  portly  Eng- 
lishmen, pounced  upon  a  desirable  group 
of  chairs,  sat  down  in  one,  and  smoothed  out 
her  huge  crimson  bow  with  the  air  of  happy 
irresponsibility  that  had  won  her  her  sobriquet 
at  Harding. 

With  Mr.  Morton  between  her  and  Babe, 
and  John  at  the  other  end  of  the  group,  there 
was  nothing  for  Betty  to  do  but  wait  patiently 
for  another  chance  to  remonstrate  with  "  those 
silly  children."  For  she  quite  agreed  with 
them  that  it  would  be  very  foolish  indeed  to 
delay  telling  Mr.  Morton  any  longer.  He 
would  naturally  feel  hurt  to  think  that  John 
had  let  his  friends  and  Babe's  into  the  secret, 
but  had  kept  his  father  outside  the  charmed 
circle  of  intimates.  It  would  put  them  back 
upon  the  old  footing  of  distrust  and  misun- 
derstanding. 

It  seemed  as    if  everybody  in  London  was 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      319 

in  a  boat  on  the  river  that  afternoon,  or  hang- 
ing over  one  of  the  bridges,  or  waving  ener- 
getically from  one  of  the  banks.  All  along 
the  course  these  were  black  with  people,  and 
beside  them,  crowded  boats  fairly  jostled  one 
another  at  anchor.  "  The  Siren "  steamed 
up  almost  to  the  finish  line  before  she  came 
to  her  allotted  station,  and  John  explained,  on 
Billy  Benson's  authority,  that  even  if  they 
couldn't  see  the  actual  finish,  they  could  be 
practically  certain  that  whoever  had  the  lead 
here  would  win  the  race. 

"  It's  simply  got  to  be  Harvard,"  said  Bab- 
bie vigorously,  and  then  suddenly  noticing 
that  outside  of  their  own  party  everybody  on 
board  was  wearing  the  English  colors,  she 
laughed.  "  I  suppose  we  ought  to  be  willing 
to  be  disappointed,  because  there  aren't  so 
many  of  us — only  a  few  hundreds  in  all  these 
millions  of  English  people." 

"  If  the  Harvard  crew  has  come  all  this 
way  only  to  lose,"  began  Mr.  Morton  testily, 
and  then  looked  at  Betty  and  laughed. 
"  That's  just  like  me,  isn't  it,  Miss  B.  A.  ?  Al- 
ways looking  on  the  dark  side  of  things,  eh  ? 
Always  ranting  about  things  going  wrong  ?  " 


32o      BETTT   WALES,  B.  A. 

Betty  laughed  and  her  eyes  danced  mis- 
chievously as  she  looked  from  Babe  to  John. 
"  Never  mind  the  race,"  she  began  impulsively. 
If  she  told,  she  certainly  had  a  right  to  choose 
her  own  time.  "  We've  got  something  to  tell 
you  that  will  make  you  forget  there  is  a  race. 
Whether  or  not  the  Harvard  crew  wins,  the 
Harvard  man  you  are  most  interested  in  has 
won  the  biggest  kind  of  a  race — no,  not  a  race 
exactly," — Betty  stumbled  over  her  metaphors, 
— "  but,  well,  the  thing  he  wanted." 

"  The  Harvard  man  I'm  most  interested  in," 
repeated  Mr.  Morton  blankly.  "  That's  John. 
What's  he  won  ?  " 

"  This  is  an  awfully  public  place,"  Betty 
murmured.  "  Lean  over  and  I'll  whisper  it." 

There  was  a  breathless  moment  while  Jas- 
per J.  Morton  blinked  hard,  then  looked  at 
John  for  confirmation  of  the  news,  and  hav- 
ing received  a  friendly  little  nod  in  answer, 
turned  to  Babe  with  a  smile  on  his  grim  face. 

"  Well,  I  can  certainly  congratulate  John," 
he  said,  "  and  from  the  reports  I've  had  lately 
I  can  congratulate  myself  on  John's  having 
got  hold  of  just  the  right  person  to  manage 
him  and  keep  him  up  to  the  mark,  so  if  you're 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      321 

satisfied  I  guess  it's  all  right.  And  I  hope 
you'll  never  regret  it." 

"  I  shan't,"  said  Babe  blithely. 

"  And  you  don't  mind  waiting  a  whole 
year?  " 

Babe  shook  her  head  smilingly.  "  It  takes 
a  long  while  to  get  ready  to  be  married,  you 
know." 

"  Because,"  Mr.  Morton  went  on,  "  there's  a 
very  good  place  in  my  business  waiting  for  a 
young  man  that  knows  how  to  talk  ten  dif- 
ferent languages,  more  or  less.  If  he  wants  it 
this  September,  he  can  have  it.  If  he  isn't 
ready  then,  why  I  guess  we'll  have  to  keep 
the  place  for  him.  Fellows  that  can  talk  ten 
languages  don't  grow  on  every  bush." 

John  and  Babbie  had  moved  their  chairs  so 
that  the  party  now  sat  in  a  close,  confidential 
circle  of  its  own. 

"  Thanks  awfully,  father,"  John  began,  "but 
we've  talked  it  over,  Babe  and  I,  and  we've 
decided  that  I  ought  to  go  back.  If  I  leave 
college  now,  I've  been  flunked  out.  I'd  rather 
not  have  that  kind  of  record  behind  me." 

Jasper  J.  Morton  nodded.  "  That  would  be 
my  idea,  but  I'd  leave  almost  any  kind  of 


322       BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

record  behind  me,  I  guess,  sooner  than  disap- 
point this  young  lady." 

Far  down  the  river  there  rose  the  faint 
sound  of  cheering. 

"  They're  coming ! "  cried  an  excitable 
English  gentleman  with  a  white  umbrella. 
He  lowered  the  umbrella  and  poked  Mr.  Mor- 
ton's shoulder  with  it  vigorously.  "  You'd 
better  stand  on  your  chairs.  It's  the  only  way 
to  see." 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  roar  of  applause 
— a  great  wave  of  sound  that  caught  Betty 
and  tossed  her  up  on  her  chair  and  fairly  took 
her  breath  away  as  she  saw  one — two  black 
specks  come  into  sight  around  a  curve  and 
dash  forward,  until,  before  she  knew  it,  they 
were  alongside. 

But  just  before  that  something  had  hap- 
pened in  the  second  boat — the  American  boat, 
alas  !  The  third  man  had  caught  a  crab. 

"  Hi !  Hi !  They're  down  and  out  now," 
shouted  the  excitable  Englishman. 

"  It's  Benson,"  cried  John. 

"  He's  all  crumpled  up  in  a  heap,"  cried 
Babe  in  anguished  tones.  "  Oh,  he  mustn't 
give  out  now  !  " 


SOMETHING  HAD  HAPPENED  IN  THE  SECOND  BOAT 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      323 

Babbie  Hildreth  caught  at  the  Englishman's 
white  umbrella  for  support — it  happened  to 
be  the  nearest  thing  she  could  reach — and 
leaning  far  forward  waved  her  crimson  streamer 
wildly. 

"  Billy  !  Billy  Benson !  Row  for  Harvard  1 " 
she  cried  in  a  shrill,  strained  voice. 

"  Benson  I  Harvard  !  "  John  and  Mr. 
Dwight  took  up  her  cry. 

The  little  Harvard  coxswain  who  was  pour- 
ing water  on  Billy's  white  face  turned  his 
head  at  the  cry,  and  Billy  raised  his  inquir- 
ingly and  then  calmly  slipped  back  into  his 
place  and  caught  his  oar. 

"  Go  it,  fellows  1 "  he  panted,  and  the  crew 
took  up  its  stroke. 

The  whole  thing  had  taken  scarcely  an  in- 
stant, but  the  English  boat  was  three  lengths 
ahead. 

"  Go  it,  Harvard  !  "  cried  the  party  on  "  The 
Siren."  ,. 

And  how  they  went!  Nothing  like  that 
spurt  was  ever  known  on  the  Thames  before 
or  since.  The  English  were  bound  to  win, 
but  the  crowd  on  the  banks  and  in  the  boats 
forgot  that  as  they  cheered  the  plucky  Har- 


324      BETTT   WALES,  B.A. 

vard  crew,  whose  superhuman  effort  was 
bringing  their  boat  in  barely  a  length  behind 
the  Cambridge  craft. 

As  they  passed  the  finish  line  Billy's  oar 
dropped  from  his  limp  hand  and  he  fainted 
quietly  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"  Tell  'em  I  ended  game,"  he  murmured  to 
the  little  coxswain  as  he  went  off,  and  the  cox- 
swain himself  came  round  in  the  evening  to 
deliver  the  message  and  to  assure  Miss  Babbie 
Hildreth  that  she  had  saved  the  honor  of  the 
college  and  that  Billy  would  be  on  hand  next 
day  to  thank  her  in  person  for  keeping  him 
from  the  "  fluke  "  that  every  athlete  dreads. 

"  Wasn't  it  lucky  we  came  ?  "  said  Betty 
Wales,  climbing  carefully  down  from  her 
chair,  while  "  The  Siren  "  whistled  madly  and 
the  crowd  cheered  for  Cambridge's  victory, 
with  a  shout  so  deafening  that  it  made  all  the 
noise  which  had  come  before  seem  like  child's 
play. 

"  Why  couldn't  they  have  begun  to  pull  a 
little  sooner?"  demanded  Jasper  J.  Morton 
grimly.  But  the  next  minute  he  had 
caught  the  Englishman's  hand  and  was  shak- 
ing it  cordially.  "  Glad  you've  won,  I'm 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      325 

sure,"  he  declared.  "  You  ought  to  win  on 
your  own  river.  I'm  glad  our  fellows  gave 
yours  a  good  race." 

Then  he  turned  to  John.  "  Let's  cheer  for 
Cambridge, — a  real  American  tiger." 

So  John  jumped  on  his  chair  again  and  led 
the  cheer,  and  the  English  passengers  re- 
sponded for  Harvard. 

"  There,  Miss  B.  A.,"  Mr.  Morton  turned  to 
Betty,  "  is  that  your  idea  of  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  things  ?  All  the  same,  John, 
I'm  disgusted  with  that  crew.  Don't  tell  your 
friend  Benson,  because  he's  probably  upset 
enough  as  it  is,  but  I'm  sure  I  can't  see  what 
those  boys  came  over  here  for  if  they  couldn't 
win  their  race." 

"  If  they  hadn't  come  they  couldn't  possibly 
have  won  it,"  Babe  reminded  him  gravely, 
whereupon  Mr.  Morton  glared  at  her  and 
then,  remembering  that  the  race  was  not  the 
main  feature  of  the  day  after  all,  laughed 
good  naturedly  and  told  such  comical  stories 
of  his  motoring  experiences  in  Germany  and 
Holland  that  the  defeated  Americans  were 
quite  the  merriest  party  on  board  during  "  The 
Siren's  "  homeward  trip. 


326      BETTY   WALES,  B.  A. 

The  dinner,  which  was  a  celebration  in  spite 
of  the  race,  was  served  on  a  little  balcony 
overlooking  the  river,  gay  with  lights  and 
noisy  with  belated  merrymakers.  Then  Mr. 
Morton  announced  that  he  had  a  box  at  one 
of  the  theatres,  where  moving  pictures  of  the 
afternoon's  race  were  to  be  the  feature  of  the 
program. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  good  race,"  he  admitted, 
after  he  had  seen  the  pictures.  "  They  got 
ahead  several  times  and  they  rowed  well  even 
when  they  had  to  take  the  other  crew's  water, 
and  that  last  spurt  was  all  right,  only  it  came 
too  late.  I  hope  Benson  understands  that  we 
aren't  at  all  ashamed  of  our  crew,  John.  You 
might  mention  it  when  you  see  him." 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Billy  cared  very  lit- 
tle for  Jasper  J.  Morton's  opinion  of  him. 
He  had  come  out  of  his  faint  in  a  state  of  un- 
wonted and  pathetic  melancholy,  only  to  find 
himself,  to  his  amazement  and  almost  to  his 
disgust,  the  hero  of  the  occasion.  For  awhile 
he  argued  manfully  against  such  an  idiotic 
idea,  but  finally  he  submitted  to  the  popular 
notion  that  his  "  crab  "  had  made  no  differ- 
ence in  the  final  result  and  that  it  had  ac- 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      327 

tually  proved  an  advantage  because  it  had  in- 
spired that  wonderful  spurt  that  was  the  talk 
of  all  London  and  .probably  of  all  New  York. 
And  since  Babbie  Hildreth  was  responsible 
for  this  turn  of  events  (and  for  some  other 
reasons)  Billy  resolved  to  cast  enforced  econ- 
omy and  doctor's  orders  to  the  winds  and  beg 
or  borrow  enough  money  to  give  her  "  the 
time  of  her  life  "  during  his  last  day  in  Lon- 
don. 

As  for  Betty  Wales,  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
happy  excitement  as  she  went  to  bed  that 
night.  A  regular  trip  abroad  would  have 
been  fun  enough,  but  a  trip  with  Madeline  to 
hunt  up  the  queer  things,  Babe  to  furnish  a 
romance,  and  Mr.  Morton  to  play  the  good 
angel  and  then  pretend  it  was  all  her  doing 
— so  that  Dick  Blake  and  now  Babe  and  John 
had  insisted  upon  thanking  her  extravagantly 
— that  was  a  trip  to  make  you  hold  your 
breath  and  wonder  how  you  happened  to  be 
such  a  lucky,  lucky  girl.  Betty's  last  few  let- 
ters from  home  had  been  rather  short  and  un- 
satisfactory. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  ought  to  have  kept  house  for 
mother  this  summer  and  let  her  rest,"  she  re- 


328      BETTT  WALES,  B.  A. 

fleeted.  "  And  perhaps  father  couldn't  easily 
afford  to  let  me  come.  But  I  haven't  spent 
nearly  all  the  money  he  gave  me,  and  I'll 
make  mother  take  the  grandest  rest  she  ever 
had  as  soon  as  I  get  home.  And  I  can't  help 
being  glad  I'm  here." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HOME   AGAIN 

THREE  busy  days  in  London,  and  it  was  all 
over  but  the  voyage  home.  Billy  and  the 
crew  and  John  and  Mr.  Morton  had  left  by 
different  routes  the  evening  after  the  race,  so 
only  Mr.  Dwight  was  on  hand  to  wave  the 
girls  off  at  their  boat-train.  They  were  all 
tired  from  trying  to  see  too  much  and  shop 
too  hard  just  at  the  last,  and  Babe  was  of 
course  forlorn  with  only  a  long  steamer  letter 
to  console  her  for  John's  absence.  So  nobody 
minded  lying  about  on  deck  for  the  first  day 
or  two,  and  after  that  a  real  storm  added  a 
sad  chapter  to  the  girls'  seagoing  experiences, 
keeping  all  but  the  dauntless  Babbie  close  in 
their  berths  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

On  the  last  morning  Babbie  and  Marie  got 
all  their  charges  upon  deck,  where  they  lay, 
rather  pale  and  listless  from  their  long  con- 
finement, enjoying  the  air  and  the  sunshine. 

329 


330      BETTY   WALES,  E.A. 

11  Mummie  dear,"  began  Babbie  gaily,  "  do 
you  know  what  I  think  ?  I  think  that,  if  you 
want  to  keep  your  reputation  as  a  chaperon, 
you'd  better  spruce  up  your  young  charges 
before  you  return  them  to  their  adoring 
families." 

Mrs.  Hildreth  smiled  faintly.  "  I  have  a 
chance,  haven't  I,  since  Babe's  mother  and 
Betty's  father  have  both  had  to  give  up  meet- 
ing the  boat,  and  John  and  his  father  are  in 
Boston.  How  shall  I  do  it,  daughter?  What 
is  the  most  effective  method  of  sprucing  up 
storm-tossed  collegians  ?  " 

"  Send  them  to  Harding  to  recuperate  for  a 
day  or  two,"  answered  Babbie  with  suspicious 
promptness.  "  The  freshman  rains  will  be 
just  over  and  Mary's  house  will  be  settled,  and 
it  will  be  simply  scrumptious  seeing  her  and 
Georgia  Ames  and  everybody,  won't  it,  girls  ?  " 

"  Kather,"  agreed  Babe.  "  We  could  wire 
Roberta  to  meet  us  there,  and  give  her  her 
gargoyle  and  Mary  her  Flemish  lamp.  That 
would  be  a  great  saving  of  expressage." 

"  And  we  could  display  Babe,  the  tamed  and 
affianced  man-hater,"  laughed  Betty.  "  Only 
— I'm  in  a  dreadful  hurry  to  get  home." 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      331 

"  What's  a  day  ?  "  demanded  Babbie.  "  We 
can  run  up  this  afternoon.  Bob's  going  to  be 
at  the  boat,  and  we'll  drag  her  along  as  a 
beautiful  impromptu  feature.  Honestly,  I 
don't  think  you  girls  ought  to  start  on  a  long 
journey  west  without  getting  rested  a  little ; 
it  would  make  you  horribly  land-sick. 
Wouldn't  it,  mother?" 

"  It  might,"  admitted  Mrs.  Hildreth,  smil- 
ingly. "  But  seriously,  girls,  I  meant  to  treat 
you  all  to  a  side-trip  to  one  of  Babbie's  adored 
villages,  and  we  stayed  on  in  Paris  so  long 
that  I  lost  my  opportunity.  So  if  you'd  like 
to  substitute  Harding,  I  want  you  all  to  go 
as  Babbie's  guests." 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say  that  I  hadn't  any 
money,"  Babe  explained  smilingly.  "  I  shall 
have  just  exactly  a  quarter  left  after  I've  paid 
my  steamer  fees.  But  when  the  mail  comes  I 
shall  have  enough  for  my  ticket  home,  be- 
cause I  told  father  to  send  it.  And  I  thought 
possibly  that  knowing  me  he  might  put  in 
something  extra,"  she  added  hopefully. 

"  You  could  have  borrowed  of  me,"  Betty 
told  her  proudly.  "  I'm  so  pleased  to  think 
that  I  can  give  father  back  my  whole  '  emer- 


332       BETTT  WALES,  B.  A. 

gency  fund/  as  he  called  the  extra  that  he  gave 
me  to  have  in  case  I  needed  it.  Nan  always 
spends  her  emergency  fund ;  she  says  it  at- 
tracts emergencies  instead  of  keeping  them 
away.  But  I  didn't  quite  know  whether  you 
could  honestly  call  a  trip  to  Harding  an 
emergency  or  not." 

"You  don't  have  to,"  put  in  Babbie  sum- 
marily. "  You're  to  call  it  an  adorable  little 
out-of-the-way  village.  Now  who  packed  the 
gargoyles  for  Bob  and  Roberta,  and  where  is 
Mary's  lamp?  You  two  be  thinking  while  I 
find  the  purser  and  borrow  a  time-table  of 
Harding  trains." 

So  it  happened  that  the  three  travelers, 
reinforced  by  Bob  Parker  and  Georgia  Ames, 
dined  sumptuously  at  Cuyler's  and  invaded 
the  Hinsdale  mansion  in  time  to  catch  Mary, 
enveloped  in  a  big  gingham  apron,  washing 
dishes. 

"  The  cook  took  French  leave  this  after- 
noon," she  explained  cheerfully,  when  the 
noisy  greetings  were  over,  "  and  we  couldn't 
have  much  of  anything  for  dinner  because 
she  took  my  cook-book  with  her,  the  wretch  ! 
I've  sent  my  husband  oif  to  buy  another,  so 


BETTY   WALES,  B.  A.      333 

I  can  find  out  about  boiling  the  eggs  for 
breakfast.  You  wipe,  Betty  ;  and  Bob,  you 
and  Babe  go  down  cellar  and  find  some  drift- 
wood for  the  library  fire.  It's  piled  up  near 
the  furnace.  Georgia,  you  can  be  putting 
away  the  dishes." 

"  The  same  old  Mary ! "  laughed  Bob. 
"  Does  your  husband  enjoy  being  ordered 
around  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mary  sweetly.  "  He 
considers  it  a  privilege  just  as  you  always 
did,  Bob.  Be  sure  you  bring  up  plenty  of 
wood." 

Five  minutes  later  Mary  divested  herself 
of  her  apron,  unpinned  her  train,  and  explain- 
ing sorrowfully  that  if  she  sat  on  the  floor  it 
always  attracted  faculty  callers,  established 
herself  in  a  carved  oak  chair  and  ordered  her 
guests  to  "  fire  away." 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  Babe's  engaged,"  an- 
nounced Bob. 

"  Oh,  you  mean  thing  !  "  cried  Babe.  "  I 
wanted  to  tell  that  myself." 

11  No,  you  ought  to  have  let  Betty,"  de- 
clared Babbie  with  decision,  "  as  her  reward 
for  telling  Mr.  Morton,  you  know." 


334      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Babe.  "  You  tell  the 
rest,  Betty." 

"  Somebody  tell  it  quick,"  begged  Mary 
plaintively.  "  I'm  dying  of  curioLty." 

So  Betty  "  told  quick,"  and  Bob  aroused 
Babe's  wrath  by  reminding  her  how  it  had 
all  been  prophesied  just  after  Mary's  wedding. 

"  As  if  that  had  anything  to  do  with  it," 
Babe  sniffed.  "  Besides,  we're  not  going  to 
be  married  for  a  year.  You  may  all  be  mar- 
ried before  that — Helen  Chase  Adams  may  be." 

Then  Mary  suddenly  discovered  that  the 
girls  had  some  trunks  with  them,  and  she 
insisted  upon  seeing  their  foreign  trophies 
immediately.  So  Bob  pulled  the  drift-wood 
fire  to  pieces  and  the  other  girls  locked  doors 
and  hunted  Mary's  wraps,  while  Mary  scrib- 
bled a  note  of  explanation  to  her  husband. 

"  I've  said  we'd  be  back  here  for  supper," 
she  told  them.  "  Roberta  ought  to  come  at 
nine-thirty  and  she's  sure  to  be  hungry  for 
gingersnaps." 

On  the  way  they  met  and  annexed  Lucile 
Merrifield  and  Polly  Eastman,  who  invited 
them  to  sit  with  the  seniors  in  chapel  next 
morning,  offered  them  their  choice  between 


BETTT   WALES,  B.A.      335 

dinner  at  Cuyler's  or  the  Belden,  whose 
matron,  they  declared,  would  be  "  pleased  as 
punch "  to  have  such  distinguished  guests, 
and  reproached  Mary  hotly  for  not  being 
willing  to  conspire  against  the  ten  o'clock 
rule  by  inviting  them  to  join  her  supper 
party. 

"  And  the  moral  of  that,"  said  Mary 
sadly,  "  is  that  only  sedate  persons  with  no 
wicked  little  friends  in  college  ought  to 
marry  Harding  professors.  I  hope  you'll  re- 
member that  before  it's  too  late,  children, 
and  not  fall  in  love  with  one.  And  I  hereby 
invite  Lucile,  Polly  and  Georgia  to  dinner  the 
very  first  night  I  have  a  cook." 

It  was  great  fun  going  through  the  trunks, 
but  it  took  a  long  time,  because  Mary  was 
constantly  being  reminded  of  desert  island 
experiences,  which  in  turn  suggested  fresh-air 
child  anecdotes  to  Bob,  and  they  got  back  to 
Europe  again  only  to  be  switched  off  on  to 
Harding  news  by  Lucile  or  Georgia.  But  by 
running  most  of  the  way  they  managed  to 
meet  Roberta's  train, — which  is  Harding 
style,  because  one  never  has  time  there  to 
waste  on  an  early  start. 


336      BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

And  after  supper,  which  was  also  Harding 
style,  the  stay-at-homes  promised  to  be  quiet 
and  give  the  travelers  a  chance  to  tell  their 
adventures,  and  Dr.  Hinsdale  considerately 
retired  to  his  study  so  that  the  talk  also 
might  be  strictly  Harding  style. 

When  she  had  listened  breathlessly  to  the 
details  of  the  "  real  adventure,"  and  to 
snatches  of  all  the  others,  Mary  smiled  her 
"  beamish  smile  "  around  the  circle.  "  Well," 
she  said,  "  you've  all  lived  up  to  your  Hard- 
ing reputations,  as  far  as  I  can  see — Babbie  the 
Butterfly,  Madeline  the  Bohemian,  Betty  a 
Benevolent  Adventurer." 

"  And  the  moral  of  that  is,"  put  in  Babbie 
quickly,  "  what  you  are  at  home,  that  you  will 
be  abroad." 

"Unless  you  drop  all  your  individuality 
and  become  a  Tourist,  with  a  capital  T,"  added 
Roberta. 

"Or  change  your  spots  and  turn  from  a 
man-hater  into  a  fiancee,"  suggested  Bob. 

"That's  not  changing  your  spots,"  declared 
Mary  wisely.  "  It's  just  making  up  your 
mind,  isn't  it,  Babe?  " 

"  How   in   the   world   did  you  know  that, 


BETTT   WALES,  B.  A.      337 

Mary  Brooks  ?  "  demanded  Babe  in  such  awe- 
struck tones  that  her  friends  shrieked  with 
laughter,  and  Dr.  Hinsdale  came  out  from  his 
study  to  ask  about  the  joke. 

The  girls  had  intended  to  leave  early  the 
next  afternoon,  but  when  Georgia  Ames  ap- 
peared, hovering  in  the  Belden  House  hall, 
before  dinner  was  over,  and  announced  that 
she  was  giving  a  gargoyle  party  for  them  that 
evening,  why  of  course  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  insist  that  the  gargoyle  party  should  be  a 
"  small  and  early,"  and  rush  to  the  station  to 
countermand  orders  for  carriages,  and  find  out 
about  making  connections  with  sleepers  at  the 
junction. 

"  For  we're  not  so  young  as  we  were  once," 
said  Roberta,  hugging  Betty.  "  We  don't  have 
to  be  met  at  Harding  by  the  registrar,  and  we 
may  travel  at  night  if  we  like,  as  long  as  two 
go  one  way  and  three  the  other." 

The  gargoyle  party  was  as  mysterious  as 
Mary  Brooks's  historic  hair-raising  had  been. 
Mary  almost  wept  when  Georgia  asked  her, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  decline  because  of  a 
previous  dinner  engagement — not  to  mention 
the  dignity  of  her  position.  She  solaced  her- 


338      BETTT   WALES,  E.  A. 

self  by  making  an  elaborate  costume  for  Eu- 
genia Ford,  a  pretty  little  freshman  who, 
when  Georgia  asked  her  to  the  party,  thanked 
her  gravely  and  explained  that  if  gargoyles 
had  anything  to  do  with  gargles  she  wouldn't 
come,  because  she  never  could  manage  to  do  it 
— her  throat  must  be  queer.  Most  of  the 
other  guests  professed  hapless  ignorance  of 
what  a  gargoyle  might  be,  but  Georgia  re- 
ferred them  easily  to  Bob's  cherished  imp, 
which  she  had  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  to- 
gether with  some  post-cards  of  other  grotesque 
figures. 

"  Just  run  in  any  time  this  afternoon,  and 
look  them  over,"  she  urged,  "  and  come  in  cos- 
tume to-night,  if  you  can.  If  not,  it  doesn't 
matter.  Mrs.  Hinsdale  is  going  to  offer  a 
prize  for  the  best  one,  though." 

So  the  chosen  few  cast  English  Lit.  papers 
and  a  possible — nay,  probable — written  review 
in  Psych,  to  the  winds,  journeyed  down-town 
to  buy  masks  and  draperies,  and  preempted  all 
the  desirable  perches  in  Georgia's  room,  mark- 
ing them  with  big  "  Engaged  "  signs,  which 
came  loose  when  the  wind  blew  in  next  time 
the  door  was  opened,  and  gave  the  room  a 


BETTT   WALES,  E.A.      339 

disconcerting  air  of  having  been  snowed  un- 
der, when  Georgia  got  back  to  it  just  before 
tea. 

"  But  we  had  to  do  it,"  Eugenia  Ford  ex- 
plained, as  she  helped  Georgia  put  things  to 
rights  for  the  evening,  "  because  the  whole 
point  of  a  gargoyle  is  that  it  stands  some- 
where. Lucile  Merrifield  said  so.  And  the 
way  you  put  on  your  costume  makes  a  differ- 
ence about  where  you  are  to  sit.  No,  the 
other  way  around." 

"  Conversely,  you  mean,  my  child," 
amended  Georgia,  pleasantly,  putting  Mary's 
five-pound  box  of  Huyler's  on  the  chiffonier. 

"  But  that's  got  to  be  cleared  off,"  objected 
Eugenia.  "  That's  Miss  Bob  Parker's  place. 
We  all  wanted  it,  but  she  got  it  tagged  first. 
Belden  House  Annie  promised  her  a  step-lad- 
der to  climb  up  by,  but  she  said  a  chair  would 
do." 

Georgia  sighed  and  dumped  the  ornaments 
of  the  dresser  top,  cover  and  all,  into  her  up- 
per drawer.  "A  gargoyle  party  is  a  thing 
that  grows  on  your  hands,"  she  said  sadly. 
"  Let's  go  and  eat.  If  there's  anything  else 
to  clear  off,  we'll  do  it  later." 


340      BETTT  WALES,  E.A. 

When  the  gargoyle  party  opened  it  was  cer- 
tain that,  whether  or  not  it  had  grown  on 
Georgia's  hands,  it  was  every  bit  her  room  could 
hold.  Betty  and  Babbie,  who  had  been  too 
busy  enjoying  Harding  to  bother  about  cos- 
tumes, were  the  only  guests  who  were  not  wear- 
ing some  sort  of  fantastic  disguise.  Bob  had 
bought  a  box  of  paints  and  made  her  own 
mask,  modeling  it  and  her  drapery  of  brown 
denim  after  the  imp  that  the  "  B.  A.'s  Abroad  " 
had  given  her.  Eugenia  Ford  was  a  gryphon, 
— or  at  least  Mary  Brooks  said  so, — with  the 
most  beautiful  pair  of  wings  that  had  ever  ap- 
peared at  a  Harding  party.  Polly  Eastman 
was  the  elephant  that  sits  on  the  tower  of 
Notre  Dame.  Georgia  had  planned  to  be  the 
other  half  of  the  elephant,  in  accordance  with 
Harding  usage  in  the  matter  of  elephants  and 
other  four-footed,  creatures.  But  at  the  last 
minute  she  discovered  that  the  Notre  Dame 
elephant  wasn't  four-footed. 

"  Gargoyles  never  are,"  said  Lucile  wisely 
— it  was  she  who  had  pointed  out  the  mistake. 
"  But  never  mind,  Georgia.  You  can  be  one 
of  my  two  heads.  I  was  going  to  be  a  two- 
headed  beast  if  I  could.  Only  Vesta  White 


BETTY   WALES,  E.A.      341 

changed  her  mind  afterward  and  wanted  to 
be  an  eagle." 

There  were  other  gargoyles,  as  impossible  to 
classify  as  the  real  ones,  and  they  squatted  in 
rows  on  Georgia's  bed  and  her  big  window-box, 
popped  up  mysteriously  from  behind  her 
desk,  or  lounged  in  strange  attitudes  in  her 
easy  chairs.  Bob  Parker  actually  did  get  up 
on  the  chiffonier,  off  the  edge  of  which  she 
hung  in  such  realistic  gargoyle  style  that  the 
judges,  Babbie  and  Betty,  unhesitatingly 
awarded  her  the  prize. 

"  Not  a  bit  fair,"  objected  young  Eugenia, 
flapping  her  beautiful  gryphon's  wings  discon- 
solately. "  We  should  all  have  looked  a  lot 
grander  on  chiffoniers." 

"  But  you  weren't  all  clever  enough  to  grab 
the  one  there  was,"  put  in  Georgia  pacifically. 

"  Having  a  gargoyle  of  your  own  makes  you 
notice  the  attitudes  more,"  declared  Bob 
proudly.  "  Never  mind,  Miss  Ford.  The 
prize  is  candy,  and  we'll  pass  it  around  while 
we  wait  for  Georgia's  refreshments  to  material- 
ize." 

"  You  haven't  forgotten  your  Harding  man- 
ners, Bob,"  said  Betty  severely. 


342       BETTT   WALES,  E.A. 

"  No,  you  don't  any  of  you  act  a  bit  like 
alums,"  declared  a  tall  junior,  taking  off  her 
mask  to  breathe. 

"  You  lovely  thing  !  "  cried  Bob,  scram- 
bling down  from  the  chiffonier  to  give  the 
appreciative  junior  first  choice  of  the  prize 
candy. 

And  then  the  gargoyles  had  a  dance  and  a 
parade,  and  delicious  "  eats,"  on  which  Georgia 
had  rashly  spent  all  that  was  left  of  her  month's 
allowance.  And  after  that,  when  the  five 
19 — 's  were  having  the  very  best  time  of  all, 
just  sitting  around  talking  and  realizing  what  a 
dear,  dear  place  Harding  was,  it  was  time  to  pull 
Bob  out  of  her  beloved  costume  and  rush  for 
trains. 

Later  in  the  evening  the  five  classmates  sat 
in  the  station  at  the  junction,  Babe  and  Betty 
waiting  to  go  west,  Bob,  Babbie  and  Roberta 
bound  for  New  York. 

Babbie  looked  critically  at  Babe  and  Betty. 
"  I  shall  tell  mother  that  it  worked,"  she  said. 
"  You  went  to  bed  at  three,  and  got  up  at 
seven  this  morning  to  go  canoeing.  You've 
eaten  four  meals  to-day  and  as  many  ices. 
You've  been  horseback  and  trolley-riding. 


BETTT    WALES,  E.A.      343 

You've  made  dozens  of  calls.  It's  now  ten 
p.  m.,  and  you're  fresh  as  the  daisies  in  Oban. 
How's  that  for  the  Harding  cure  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  feel  exactly  as  if  it  was  some 
June  ?  "  demanded  Bob.  "  Not  last  June, 
but  a  regular  June,  you  know,  and  we  were 
all  just  going  home  for  the  summer." 

"  Exactly,"  agreed  everybody,  and  then  a 
sleepy  silence  settled  upon  the  group. 

"  What  were  those  things  we  had  in  the 
'Rise  of  the  Drama'  course?"  asked  Betty 
Wales  suddenly.  "  Not  intervals,  but  some- 
thing like  that." 

"  You  mean  Interludes,  don't  you  ?  "  asked 
Roberta.  "  They  came  right  after  the  Morali- 
ties." 

Betty  nodded.  "  That's  what  this  summer 
has  been — an  Interlude." 

"  With  Babe  for  the  fascinating  heroine," 
put  in  Babbie. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Betty  hastily.  "  And  when 
I  get  home  to-morrow  the  real  business  of  life 
is  going  to  begin." 

"Act  I,  Scene  I,  Life  of  Betty  Wales, 
B.  A.,"  said  Roberta.  "  Doesn't  that  sound 
serious  ?  But  it  won't  be.  You'll  play  tennis 


344      BETTY   WALES,  E.  A. 

with  Nan,  and  go  to  dances  with  your  brother 
and  other  people's  brothers,  and  amuse  that 
darling  little  sister  of  yours,  and  be  nice  to 
everybody  who  needs  it,  just  as  you  always 
have,  except  that  you  won't  be  home  on  a 
snippy  little  vacation." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so,"  said  Betty,  laughing  at 
Roberta's  choice  of  details.  ""  But  then  I 
want  to  do  something  that  counts,  too." 

"  You're  always  doing  things  that  count," 
Babe  declared,  giving  her  a  loving  little 
squeeze. 

"  That  was  just  fun,"  Betty  reminded  her 
for  the  hundredth  time  at  least. 

"  But  if  fun  counts,  it  counts,"  declared 
Roberta.  "  Just  ask  Madeline  Ayres  if  it 
doesn't.  If  you  can  make  fun  out  of  hard 
work,  then,  according  to  Madeline,  you  really 
know  how  to  live." 

"  But  we're  not  the  working  contingent," 
objected  Babbie.  "  K.  and  Rachel  and  Helen 
are  the  workers." 

"  They  are  !  "  breathed  Bob  indignantly. 
"Just  try  taking  care  of  certain  fresh-air 
youngsters  for  two  weeks." 

"  Or  typewriting  most  particular  briefs  for 


BETTY   WALES,  E.  A.      345 

your  most  particular  father,  who  always  wants 
things  in  a  terrific  hurry,"  added  Roberta. 

Betty  considered.  "  I've  helped  in  little 
ways  of  course,  but  I  never  did  any  one  big 
thing.  I'm  going  to  now,  though." 

"  Here's  to  a  winter  of  hard  work  ! "  cried 
Babe.  "  I  shall  have  to  sew,  and  I  hate  it." 

"  But  you  must  make  fun  out  of  it  all  the 
same,"  Betty  told  her,  with  the  flash  of  gay 
courage  in  her  eyes  that  had  won  over  Mr. 
Morton.  "  I  shall,  no  matter  what  happens, 
and  whatever  we  do,  think  of  the  fun  we'll 
have  talking  it  over  when  we  all  get  together 
again.  Oh,  is  that  our  train,  Babe  ?  "  And 
with  her  curls  flying  and  her  eyes  dancing 
with  eagerness  Betty  Wales  turned  merrily 
from  her  happy  summer's  Interlude  to  "  the 
real  business  of  life." 


THE  END 


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